To forget the future
by TheWhispersWhichFlowGrey
Summary: This is not a very original original idea, but it is an original story. Involves messing with time and lots of bromance. Full summary is not inside-you're going to have to read and see:) Not slash and rated T because of paranoia.
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Merlin or any of its amazing characters. All I own is a laptop and this particular story. **

**Hello everybody. **

**Okay, so before anyone says anything, I am perfectly aware that this idea has been used and reused and used again a hundred times already. **

**The way I see it, Merlin fanfiction can actually be divided into certain categories, given the way some ideas keep repeating. Time traveling Arthur and Merlin(old versions to the past or young versions to the future) definitely represent one such category. **

**But lately I've been taking a peculiar shine to the time travel Merlin fanfcition, and I thought why not? Might as well give it a try, especially considering I think I've read all there is out there on the subject. **

**Despite being overused, I hope you'll give my version a try and I hope you'll enjoy it. After all, we all do this for fun and this is certainly providing entertainment for me. **

**Without further ado, **

**Enjoy! **

* * *

The young boy, tousled black hair falling into his eyes, dragged his feet across the courtyard, looking for all intents and purposes as if he'd been run over by an entire herd of wild horses. His light brown jacket was barely clinging to his shoulders, his once bright blue tunic, now covered in dust and mud, peeking from underneath. There were leaves and twigs tangled in his hair and sticking to his clothes and his red neckerchief was tied askew around his neck.

All in all, Merlin looked like he had had better days. He felt like it, too.

The warlock cursed mentally as he stumbled over his own feet, knowing perfectly well the fringe blurring his vision could have played a role in that, but not finding the energy necessary to brush it out of his eyes.

Instead, he again called Arthur all manners of names (in English, the Old Tongue _and_ the language of dragons) inside his mind as he started the excruciatingly painful and slow ascent to Gaius' and his shared chambers.

He hated hunting trips. He had never been fond of killing animals, the knights always galloped ahead on their horses, while he had to stumble on his feet after them, and most of the trips ended with either a bandit attack or something equally nasty. Of course, even if nothing of that magnitude happened, hunting trips were still a nuisance, tiring and pointless. (At least in his opinion) The only up side to a hunting trip was that Arthur seemed to really enjoy them, and as such they promised a very happy and content prince.

However, as with everything, there were exceptions to the rule. This particular hunting trip had proved to be one of those.

The prince had been incredibly harsh today, and somewhere around noon something had tickled his extremely short (bordering on nonexistent) temper and he had decided that they were not to return until they had caught at least four deer.

Needless to say, that had taken a very, very long time. The setting sun was proof of that.

They had left that morning at first light and hadn't rested even once, and to top it all, as punishment for not catching the four deer, Arthur had made Merlin's (although it really wasn't his fault the animals weren't somehow aware of the prince's intentions and had, naturally, fled and not surrendered to be slaughtered) and his knights' lives a living hell on the journey back home.

Merlin didn't want to go into details.

The warlock honestly had no idea where this foul mood of Arthur was having its roots. There had been no recent attacks on Camelot or assassination attempts, things had gone well for the kingdom and for the people, the weather had been surprisingly sunny and beautiful… sometimes Merlin just couldn't understand Arthur.

He sighed inwardly and shook his head. It must have had something to do with Uther. And here you go, yet another reason to hate the man.

Merlin raised his tired blue gaze and realized he was at the door. He just really hoped Gaius wasn't in: the last thing he needed was another chore to do. (And he had avoided his mentor for the past couple of days in the hope that he could somehow defy fate and the leech tank would end up clean all of its own; of course, the damn thing had only gotten dirtier and Gaius had deliberately put it in full view on the table, as if to tell Merlin that he knew what the warlock was doing and no, it wasn't working)

The warlock closed his hand around the doorknob and pressed, starting to open it, but was stopped by a sudden and loud bang, followed by the clatter of dishes falling and several (heartbreaking) sounds of pots shattering, as well as a loud string of colorful curses.

Merlin held his breath and brought his face closer to the door, peering in through the slit the door and wall created, trying not to make any sound.

He couldn't see very clearly from where he was, but there was definitely someone there who was _not _Gaius. He could glimpse the tangle of limbs sprawled on the floor behind the table.

"Ouch! You idiot, get off me!" hissed a voice, and Merlin felt his heart skip a beat. It sounded so much like Arthur, but it was a bit harsher. Besides, it couldn't be Arthur. He had left Arthur to sleep in his warm and fluffy bed, after all.

Merlin shook his head. All the exhaustion must had taken its toll on him.

"Get off you!? _You_'re the one who landed on _me_! _You_ get off!" retorted the other voice, and the warlock felt a strange feeling washing over him. He _knew_ that voice, too.

After several more unintelligible curses and groans, during which Merlin deemed it safe to risk creaking the door just that tiny bit more open, enough to widen the crack and get a better view, the two men finally seemed to have managed to stand up.

Merlin immediately wished they hadn't.

There, dusting their clothes off and glaring at one another, were none other than Arthur and himself.

* * *

Arthur Pendragon may or may not have yelped, following it with a hissed and angry "You idiot, get off me!"

He was, indeed, perfectly aware of the fact that he was, more or less, the one who had landed on top of his friend, but Arthur wasn't anywhere near acknowledging that. It was, after all, the idiot's fault they were in this situation in the first place. Merlin was the one who had brilliantly decided to try that teleportation spell.

After acquiring a new and very, very old and worn journal for his birthday, containing all these suspicious and definitely _not_ trustworthy spells scribbled all around and sometimes _over_ weird drawings and sketches, his Court Sorcerer (_Warlock_, Court Warlock!) had cooped himself up in his chambers/loony experiments laboratory/DANGEROUS-DO-NOT-ENTER-WITHOUT-CHECKING-OR-YOU-MIGHT-GET-TURNED-INTO-UNPLEASANT-THINGS room for days, trying out everything.

Today, the king had decided he had had enough and went to check on his sorcerer (ah, warlock). Arthur had taken every precaution, prodding at the door with his sword and refusing to enter until assured twice by Merlin that it was safe, and had subsequently tried to talk the warlock out of trying some kind of teleportation spell in the diary.

The spell was scribbled across the ugly sketch of some kind of animal, half of the page blurred as if someone had spilled water on it.

Arthur knew for a fact that those kind of runes weren't very easy to read, and that much was left to interpretation. Adding the fact that half of the incantation wasn't even discernible, he had voted against it, trying to draw whatever reason existed inside Merlin's thick skull to the surface.

To no avail, of course, as the warlock was dead-set on the damn spell and tried it anyway, then and there. (As if to spite the king)

Oh, but it only got better after that. First, after a very pretty display of blinding white light and wind, they had landed in some kind of dark, damp cells, men roaring as if in the middle of a battle, swords raised above their heads, rushing by them.

Merlin had quickly recited the incantation (that was obviously not working as it should have) when it looked like the ferocious soldiers had spotted them and decided they were the enemy.

The next thing he knew, Arthur and his Court Sorcerer had been tossed in the middle of literally nowhere, on a wide plain that seemed to stretch as far as the eye could see in all directions, sun blazing mercilessly above them.

They had taken their time that time, Arthur dizzy and nauseous from the spell and Merlin trying to figure out what he was doing wrong.

Finally, with a "Ha! I know!" that the king really didn't trust, the warlock uttered the spell again.

And here they were, tossed in the middle of a seemingly harmless room (this time, at least, without people charging at them with swords).

So yeah, Arthur really didn't see how this was his fault, and as such he had every right to be angry at his friend.

"Get off you!? _You_'re the one who landed on _me_! _You_ get off!"

Arthur gritted his teeth. The nerve the man had! He just _had_ to point that out, especially when all of this had been Merlin's fault in the first place.

After much groaning and cursing and fumbling around, they finally managed to get on their feet. Arthur glared at his best friend and trusted advisor.

"You just _had _to try that out, didn't you, Merlin? I told you it was a bad idea and now look-" he gestured widely with his arm at the room they were in. "-where we are!"

The other man snorted and dusted his long robe with an infuriating air of superior calm.

"It is hardly my fault I got the wording wrong. You saw the state that notebook was in." Merlin, as if suddenly remembering something, started scanning the floor. "Where is it?" he asked, a slight hint of panic in his voice.

Great, Arthur thought, bending to pick the damned journal from where it lay at his feet and slapping the other man on the head with it.

"Here you go, idiot. Now get us back"

Merlin winced and glared, snatching the notebook out of the king's hands.

He started flipping it to the right page when Arthur's voice made him look up.

"Merlin… I think I know where we are"

Merlin noticed the increasingly panicked look on the king's face and glanced around. Dread dropped into the pit of his stomach like a rock.

"B-but this is Gaius' chambers" he stuttered.

Arthur locked his blue eyes on his, apprehensive. The king nodded.

Merlin looked around again, noting the dirty leech tank sitting on the place of honor on the table, where Gaius used to put it in order to remind him it needed cleaning.

"But the old chambers were destroyed in the attack two years ago…" Merlin trailed off, looking at his king with panicked eyes. Arthur gulped.

Where the hell were they?

King and warlock both turned their heads in the direction of the sound of someone crashing through the door.

* * *

Merlin groaned and his hand instinctively reached to rub the sore spot on his forehead.

Great. He just had to stumble on thin air and fall inside the room he most definitely wanted to stay out of, completely blowing his cover.

Well, in his defense, the shock he had suffered (and was still suffering) from seeing _himself_ and an older version of Arthur in the room might have conspired with the thin air in tripping him.

Suddenly reminded of the strange situation he was in, Merlin quickly scrambled to his feet.

Then he proceeded to promptly stare and gawk openly at the two men in front of him, everything he might've wanted to say dying in his throat.

While the two of them were definitely Merlin and Arthur, they just as definitely weren't _himself _and _his_ Arthur.

The two men stood there, frozen much like himself to the spot, wide eyes like saucers trained on him, looking ready to bolt at the slightest movement.

Arthur, this Arthur, looked a bit taller and definitely older. His blond hair was cut in the same manner as his Arthur's was, but there were subtle wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and he had a short, blond beard. His eyes were the same sky hue of blue they were now, but they seemed to hold something more, a glimmer of wisdom his prince Arthur did not posses. There was much more in those eyes than in his Arthur's, and even though still arrogant, the very presence of this one was a thousand times more commanding. Merlin couldn't help but shrink a little. This Arthur demanded respect, and it wasn't his clothes, which were finer than he'd ever seen Arthur wear before, or his sword, or anything. There was something in the way he held himself, the way his back was straight and proud in a way much less prattish than Arthur.

He was dressed in a light blue tunic, a round golden pendant with the Pendragon dragon engraved on it glinting as it hung over the fine material. Over that he wore a long leather, sleeveless jacket that fell to his ankles, that was strangely familiar. After a moment, the warlock realized why: the jacket was similar to what he'd seen Uther sometimes wear, on less formal occasions.

Arthur's fingers were also clad in black gloves (just like Uther wore, Merlin couldn't help but notice), and long golden armlets covered both of his forearms, the metal seeming to gleam softly. The same dragon that was on the pendant was engraved on each armlet, the only difference being that the dragons here were trapped inside a perfect circle. It was a peculiar sight, especially since the dragon was the seal of the house of Pendragon, and Merlin couldn't see why Arthur would want to alter it. The warlock didn't have time to dwell on it, though. The shock was too big for him to think too much on the details.

The other Merlin, too, was older. He couldn't tell exactly how old they were, but it looked like at least another ten years had passed for the other them.

His hair was still the same length, black and tousled as ever, the tips of his fringe nearly brushing into his eyes. Merlin avoided his own eyes (okay, this was weird, how could he avoid looking into his own eyes?), choosing to stare at his clothing instead.

Because as much as Arthur's clothing and pose was different, there was a huge, gaping abyss between him and the older version of himself.

The other Merlin stood up straighter and he was much more imposing, dressed in clothing the warlock never thought he'd ever wear in his whole life.

He was wearing a midnight blue, silk robe that fell all the way down to the floor at his feet, the hems and collar a bright gold, over a simple, dark red-almost black-tunic. The same circle with a Pendragon dragon trapped inside was embroidered in golden thread on the left side of the robe, just above the heart. He didn't wear any gloves, but on his right hand, the one holding a worn notebook, was angled just enough for Merlin to glimpse the edge of the same peculiar armlet as the other man's.

The golden pendant that was twin to Arthur's jiggled as the old Merlin moved forward slightly and opened his mouth to say something, but shut it again, staring at Merlin with a new expression of interest.

There was another weird thing. Merlin knew, just _knew_, that these two men, however impossible it may seem, were really him and Arthur. He could feel it, could feel his magic twist and swirl inside him, but not in a bad way, like it did when there was dark magic around. It seemed to be… affected by the magic the other him obviously possessed, and it struggled between wanting to reach the older Merlin and desperately trying to get away from him. It was like it recognized the same magic in the other him, and wasn't sure what to do. The warlock wondered if the older version of himself felt the same.

Merlin was also feeling his magic in the armlets and also on the pendants, but his attention was too focused on other things to give it too much thought.

"Merlin, is that you?" Arthur asked, being the first one to shake off some of the shock.

Merlin looked at his older self. He wasn't sure who Arthur had spoken to.

The old Merlin, however, seemed to believe he had spoken to him. "Apparently. I can feel it. It's really me"

Merlin made a mental note. So he was right, the other Merlin's magic was doing the same thing, reacting to the younger version of himself.

The old Merlin glanced at Arthur and whispered, (or attempted to) leaning closer.

"I-I think we might've traveled a little bit further than we'd thought"

* * *

"I-I think we might've traveled a little bit further than we'd thought" attempted Merlin to whisper inconspicuously.

Arthur glared at his Court Sorcerer exasperatedly, not for the first time feeling the strong urge to rip the other man's head off.

"_Really?_" he asked, tone dripping sarcasm. He had already gotten over the shock of apparently being in the past with two Merlin's in the room. He had lived with the man long enough for such things not to shock him too much. (Although, he had to admit, his friend had probably set some kind of record today)

"But how could this happen?" Merlin asked no one in particular, shaking all shock off and frantically starting to flip the journal, proceeding to ignore everyone in the room. Which left him, the King of Camelot, in the unfortunate position of trying to explain exactly what was happening to a very confused young version of his idiot of a friend.

Arthur ran a hand through his hair and sighed loudly.

"What year is it?" he asked, his eyes finally settling on the young Merlin.

"Uh-um… I-"

The king sighed. And then winced and turned his wide eyes on his Merlin, who was staring at him with the same mix of incredulity and shock.

Merlin opened his mouth and closed it again, and the king could only agree.

He _remembered_.

* * *

**That was it-the first chapter! What do you think? **

**I don't know how long this will be. I obviously don't intend on making it a oneshot, but every time I try and estimate how long a story will be I end up being very-_very_-wrong about it. I would tell you I don't plan for it to be too long, but given that my last story started off as a oneshot and ended up with 16(17, if you count the epilogue) chapters, I dare not say anything on the matter. **

**Anyways, thank you for reading and I'll see you in no more than three days. That is my usual update rate, but I haven't figured out a pace for this story yet. Besides, I'm always overly enthusiastic at the beginning of a story and can't keep from posting the first few chapters very quickly. **

**Until the next chapter^^ **


	2. Chapter 2

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Merlin or any of its amazing characters. All I own is a laptop and this particular story. **

**Hello again. It's very late and I'm very tired, and as a result I ask you to forgive me for any mistakes in either spelling or grammar or really any kind of mistake. **

**Enjoy! **

* * *

Arthur stared at Merlin.

Merlin stared at Arthur.

Camelot was one of the most powerful kingdoms, feared by all its foes and respected by its every ally. Even most of its foes, actually, respected Camelot to some degree. (Though they would certainly not admit it)

The king of Camelot was, in turn, a figure that demanded great respect and was very famous across the land for his kindness and fairness, but also for his courage and strength.

Camelot's Court Sorcerer was pretty famous too, rumored to be the most powerful magic practitioner to have ever lived and to ever live, and was, amongst most of the magical community, a king. But whether people believed him to be the _most_ powerful or not, every person not living on another continent or under a particularly heavy rock knew he was indeed powerful, a sorcerer who could single-handedly defeat armies and raze kingdoms to the ground.

Taking all the above into consideration, one would find it very amusing to see the two figures of incredible power gawking at one another with the same idiotic expression on their faces, the supposedly most powerful sorcerer to ever walk the earth opening and closing his mouth in a very accurate imitation of a fish.

However, Arthur's mind was barely registering all of these, too busy trying to process all the information it had been offered. One moment he was standing there, frustrated at the prospect of explaining to a younger version of Merlin something he barely knew anything about, and the next thing his mind was reeling with all the memories.

In the split of a second, images, sounds, smells, _memories_ of this accidental trip back in time of theirs had flashed through his brain so quickly Arthur wasn't entirely sure he had taken them all in completely just yet.

The king felt lightheaded, a sense of understanding the likes of which he had never felt before flooding through his every bone.

He remembered it all, only from a different perspective-he remembered it as a young prince: he recalled how it had felt like to see himself older(and hell, Merlin had been right-he _had_ put on weight! Not that he was going to admit it, mind you), to see Merlin old, the shock, the confusion, everything.

"Merlin did you-" he half-gasped, half-yelled, too excited to continue.

The warlock apparently felt the same, for his answer came in the same out-of-breathly near-shout. "Yes I-"

"-I remember!" the king cut him off, only to be cut off himself.

"Me too!"

"But how-"

"I don't know!"

The king beamed at his sorcerer, his brain distantly aware of a mumbled "I need to sit down" coming from somewhere in the room, but too busy to actually dwell on it.

Merlin suddenly glanced around the room, as if remembering something, and Arthur followed his gaze to the table, where a very young, confused and tired looking warlock was sitting slumped into a chair.

The king struggled to contain the grin that was threatening to split his face, knowing that it wouldn't be appreciated. (Although judging by the deathly glare that was being sent his way by the young Merlin, Arthur was certain he wasn't exactly doing a great job)

While the king could remember now with amazing clarity what had happened in his past, when he had seen his older self, he couldn't recall that much about that day before that. He was pretty sure they had gone on a hunting trip, and judging from the other Merlin's appearance it had been one of_ those_ hunting trips. But that was about it.

Arthur threw his Merlin a look and was rewarded with a nearly imperceptible nod, before the warlock turned his attention back on the younger him. They were going to have to talk somewhere in private, because there were still things he didn't exactly understand, even though he knew most of what was going to happen. However, he was sure Merlin had, as usual, all the answers. He only just had to be a bit patient and let his friend do most of the talking.

The king turned his attention back on the situation at hand, enjoying the feeling of knowing all that was going to happen and just watching. This was going to be fun.

* * *

Merlin was pretty sure that nothing on this planet could ever shock him. Ever. Seriously, after everything he'd been through, everything he'd seen and done, he had developed a sort of numbness, shock-proof state of mind, if you want.

I mean yes, shocking and unexpected, technically impossible things still got to him, but only for a short while.

For example, an unfortunate string of shocking events would only result in one single wave of initial shock. After that, his defenses would go up and the shock-proof state of mind would take over.

Therefore, the warlock didn't even move a muscle as, out of seemingly nowhere, the older version of _himself_ and the older version of Arthur(that mind you, had appeared out of thin air in Gaius' and his chambers) suddenly startled and turned to one another at the same time. Then they proceeded to stand there, gaping at each other like a pair of fish for a few seconds, the old Merlin's mouth twitching a couple of times in shock, before they started fretting over something obviously only they had seen, arms waving about frantically.

"Merlin did you-"

"Yes I-"

"-I remember!"

"Me too!"

"But how-"

"I don't know!"

"I need to sit down" mumbled Merlin to no one in particular, which was just fine because the other two men in the room weren't paying him any attention at all.

The boy proceeded to drag a chair from the small table, not finding the energy to care too much about the loud scraping sound the action involved. He slumped onto the chair, oblivious to the other two finally remembering he was there due to the sound.

When he raised his gaze, however, he found a sudden surge of annoyance running through him.

The other Merlin was regarding him with a mixture of amusement and pity, while Arthur was obviously barely managing to keep the grin off his face. One thing was clear though: whatever had happened during their strange exchange earlier, all of their confusion had disappeared and apparently been replaced by amusement.

Merlin hated being out of the loop, out of _any_ loop-even one as strange as this-and there clearly was something he was missing, for he couldn't find anything in the least amusing about their current situation, so if his next words came a bit harsh or accompanied by a venomous growl, then he refused to take any blame for it. Besides, those two staring at him with idiotic and amused expressions didn't exactly help matters any.

"_What?_"

Merlin scowled as his question was met with a raised notch of pity from the other him and an instant grin breaking on Arthur's face.

The warlock crossed his arms over his chest and glared. Arthur's grin only grew bigger, and Merlin was already considering punching the older man when the old Merlin put a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"That's enough" he said and threw Arthur a look, then turned away and drew himself a chair across from him. Arthur followed after a few seconds, easing into the other chair and continuing to grin.

Merlin promptly ignored him, focusing his attention on himself instead.

The older him was watching him carefully, hands twined together on the table. He studied him for another couple of seconds, before finally seeming to come to some sort of decision and heaving a deep sigh.

Strangely enough, Merlin understood what he was going through. The warlock suppressed a smile: he understood what he himself was going through. How weird did that sound?

But the strangeness of the situation aside, the sigh the older him had given sounded so much like what he himself had done a thousand times, that he felt his annoyance diminish a little.

The warlock gave up, sighing a sigh of his own and turning to properly face the others. If he was going to make things harder, he could at least not make them harder on literally himself. There was always time to annoy Arthur, after all.

For now, he needed to understand.

Merlin looked up and was met by his own eyes, slight crinkles at the corners being the only difference between their intense blue gazes.

"Okay" the other man started, and Merlin found himself suppressing a flinch. It was strange, hearing his own voice talk to him. "You probably already know that we are really you and Arthur, I know you can feel it"

Merlin nodded, then threw a wary glance at Arthur, but the other man didn't seem to have any objections to what had been said. Either he hadn't noticed the part about him "feeling it", or he just didn't know what it implied. He was only watching the exchange, seemingly content not to interfere. The warlock turned back to the older version of himself.

"As you probably guessed by now, we come from the future-your future. To be more precise, fourteen years and a half into the future"

Merlin winced, though he wasn't sure why. He had guessed that there was something of a ten-year difference, but to hear it being said like that, so matter-of-factly…

"H-How did you get here?" he asked, and cursed the fact that his voice sounded so small.

However, the other man only smiled at him with a slightly unnerving knowing look, as if he knew what he had been going to say.

Actually, given the fact that this was himself from the future, everything had probably already happened to him, so knowing what Merlin was thinking didn't make that little sense.

"Uuh" the old him glanced at Arthur warily, while the other man just waved a hand in the air dismissively.

"We traveled trough time" he said, as if talking to a small child.

Merlin wasn't able to keep the sarcastic reply from rolling off his lips. "_Really?_" It seemed that even in the future, Arthur was still a prat.

"I'm sorry. I know this is all a bit confusing. Trust me, I've been there."

The warlock turned his attention back to the other him, who had an apologetic look on his face. He pursed his lips, seeming to consider how to go about this, running a hand through his hair and managing to ruffle it even more than it already was.

Finally, he opened his mouth to say something, but Merlin would never find out what he had been about to say(or, if he thought about it, he would, given that one day he would be standing in his place, but Merlin wasn't going to be that specific right now) because the door opened with an ominous creak.

"Merlin?" came the voice of Gaius.

Merlin didn't have time to panic as the physician entered the room, took a look around, his eyes falling on the three people at the table, and promptly froze, his jaw falling to the ground.

The warlock let his head fall on the table. Great. Just great.

* * *

Gaius had really been looking forward to a nice bowl of steaming soup and maybe a fresh apple, after his rather tiring trip to the near edge of the city.

A very panicked and desperate young man had come bursting into his chambers earlier in the day, excusing himself in between gulps of air and trying to explain to him what had happened to his father.

Gaius had wasted no time, even if he hadn't understood a word of what the boy was trying to say, but his appearance had told the old physician everything he needed to know: it was the haste and desperation of something really bad happening to someone you love. As such, he had grabbed his bag of basic potions and remedies and left.

Apparently, the boy's father had fallen off the roof while repairing it. The physician had been tending to the man for the past two hours, and after finally stabilizing him and telling his son to pass by his chambers every day in order to get the doze of potion needed, for the family lived too far from the castle for him to go and check every day, Gaius had begun the slow walk back to the heart of the citadel. He had promised, despite the difficulty, to come back and check on the man one every three days. It was the best he could do, given that he had rounds to do and people to tend to every day.

So it was a very tired and soup-wishing physician who opened the door to his chambers, hoping that his ward had already come back home. Gaius was very sure that that was the case, for it was already dark outside, but with Merlin one could never know.

"Merlin?" he called, not waiting for and answer as he pushed the door open and stepped inside.

He supposed that in the future, it would be better if he just waited outside. He could develop a code or something: if he asked "Merlin, are you there?" and the boy told him "Gaius, don't come in", then that would mean that no, his ward was in no mortal danger (and neither was Arthur) but yes, he had done something incredibly stupid and it was better for the physician if he just turned around and took a long walk.

Gaius made a mental note to talk to Merlin about this code idea, but for now he was too busy with what his eyes were registering.

At first, he had doubted his sight. After all, one would always doubt his sanity when faced with two Merlin's(one of which was significantly older) and an Arthur in his fourties.

However, Gaius then proceeded to remember this was Merlin he was dealing with, the most idiotic and reckless sorcerer to have ever and to ever walk the earth, and as such had to resign himself to the fact that what he was seeing was probably true.

Setting aside the disastrous implications of having two Merlin's in the same room, the old physician then froze in a wave of shock.

Finally, Gaius' mind settled for a state of ominous exasperation and acceptance.

The physician calmly stepped inside, closed the door behind him, and went to put his bag away, all the while very much aware of the three pairs of eyes watching him.

The old man then poured himself a cup of water and sat at the table, not looking at anyone as he sipped it slowly and with a sense of apparent calm.

"Gaius?" asked the younger Merlin, _his _Merlin, his voice very small and careful.

The physician set the cup on the table. He was gong to go very calmly about this, because apparently he was the only responsible adult here. It was obvious to him that he was surrounded by children: Merlin was a twenty two year old all powerful warlock with the mind of a ten year old, the heir to the throne of Camelot was a twenty three year old arrogant prince with a similar mindset and Uther, the current king of Camelot, more often than not acted like a teenager with very bad anger issues.

Gaius sighed. It seemed he was the only mature one there. (With maybe the exception of Gwen. Yes, Gwen was very mature)

The physician looked at the tree of them, noting the differences in the older Arthur and Merlin. He felt pride swelling in his chest at the sight of th older Merlin's robe, for even if the seal on it was foreign to him, Gaius could never mistaken that robe: it was the traditional robe of a Court Sorcerer.

The old man felt moisture gathering at the corners of his eyes. His ward had done it. If these two were real(which he somehow didn't doubt-only Merlin could get himself in a mess of these proportions), than it could only mean that Arthur was-would be-king and he had accepted and recognized Merlin for what he truly was.

Gaius shook his head, reminding himself that this was not the time. He had a mess to clean up.

"Which one of you did this?" he asked, struggling not to beam at the robes of the older Merlin, but failing. He couldn't seem to shake the dizzying sense of euforia off and he had to fight against the smile wanting to break out on his lips. _This is not the time_, he reminded himself, barely managing to force his focus back on the conversation at hand.

In response to his question(and probably Gaius' reaction to Merlin's robes too)Arthur's grin grew bigger, threatening to completely split his face in two, while the old Merlin only smiled knowingly.

His Merlin paled a bit, shuffling uncomfortably in his chair.

"I didn't do anything!" he protested, throwing his arms into the air. "I just came in and these two appeared here out of nowhere! I wasn't even in the room"

Merlin's cheeks were flushed as he tried to prove his innocence, and Gaius turned expectantly at the other Merlin, who looked a bit sheepish.

He rose an eyebrow at him._ The_ eyebrow.

It was Arthur who spoke, his grin still very much in place. "No he didn't do it, at least not this time. This one did it" the king slapped the old Merlin across the back of his head and continued, ignoring the following "Ouch" and "Hey" and muttered "Prat."

"Merlin decided that trying a teleportation spell he could barely read, written in the old druidic runes and half smudged, was a good idea."

The protests came almost immediately. "It isn't my fault it didn't work! That could've happened to anyone"

Arthur rounded on him, forgetting for the moment about Gaius.

"No, it's your fault because you insisted on trying it, even _after _I've expressly told you it was a bad idea"

"You can't tell me what to do" Merlin crossed his arms over his chest, glaring indignantly at his king.

"Actually, I can. I am your king!"

Merlin the old snorted and opened his mouth to say something(probably insulting), but the younger Merlin was quicker.

"_W-What?_" he choked, staring at the two with eyes wide and panicked.

Gaius realized at the same time as the other two men in the room what had happened and why his ward suddenly looked like something had drained all the color from his face.

The old physician really hoped he wasn't out of that calming tea, because Merlin had just found out that Arthur was aware of his magic, and apparently he was a little surprised.

* * *

**What did you think? **

**I hope you liked it and I know it's all a bit confusing, but then if I told you everything, where would be the fun in that? :) **

**Unfortunately i won't be able to update until after Wednesday, because Monday I'm leaving on a three-day trip with the class. But you will have the next chapter by Friday, even earlier if I can. **

**Thank you all for reading and reviewing. I'm really glad you like this story. **

**Until next week^^ **


	3. Chapter 3

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Merlin or any of its amazing characters. All I own is a laptop and this particular story. **

**Hello everyone. Back from the trip I am. **

**Okay this ****is the next chapter. I hope it doesn't have any mistakes or missing letters(because I've noticed with increasing dread that Fanfiction keeps eating off letters and trust me, I checked my drafts: the letters are not missing there) but if there are, do not hesitate to call me on it. **

**Anyways, I do hope you like it. **

**Enjoy! **

* * *

In hindsight, he probably should have thought _before_ he opened his mouth. Thinking back, Arthur realized that kind of error happened often-too often-for one that was supposed to be a very wise king.

Any kind of king, even the not-so-very-wise ones, shouldn't have that happening to them. Any ruler of anything is required to think before he acts, lest the consequences of their actions cause suffering among the ones they rule. Of course, ordinary men with no kingdoms to protect should also do that, have at least an ounce of foresight, but for a king it was more of a must.

One would think that fourteen years as a king had thought Arthur to think before he acts, even more so in the act of opening his big mouth. The king glanced at his Court Sorcerer, who was wearing a mask of mingled knowing, pity, exasperation and infuriating amusement, a twinkle in his blue eyes.

The other Merlin, the younger one, did not share his older self's mirth. The boy's face had suddenly turned a very unhealthy shade of marble white, which brought out the dirt on his face and the rings under his eyes quite clearly, and he had suddenly gone very still. His blue eyes were a bit hazy and unfocused, and Arthur could swear he could see the servant's pupils dilating as a look of sheer terror settled on his face.

Arthur had forgotten. He had forgotten how scared Merlin used to be, how hard it used to be for the warlock. A wave of guilt washed over him. He had forgotten how scared Merlin used to be of _him_.

Back then, when he had first found out, he had been to overwhelmed to think things from his friend's perspective, too busy dealing with his own fears and feelings to dwell on someone else's. But later, as he grew older and Merlin had started offering more and more bits and pieces of his side of the adventures they'd had, his feelings of the victories they'd won and the battles they'd lost, Arthur had started to understand. The king has begun to realize how Merlin had felt all those years.

They had gotten over it, of course. Their friendship had never wavered, only the trust it had been built upon. And once the trust was back, a foundation stronger and bigger than ever before, the friendship had returned to its rightful place atop it, blooming and growing every day.

They weren't just king and subject anymore now. They weren't just friends. They were brothers.

And that's how it had always been, Arthur had come to realize, but in this time he didn't know it. The prince he used to be had no idea and Merlin was clueless.

And that, the king of a Camelot that had yet to come to pass suddenly became very aware of, left him with an extremely scared and vulnerable version of his best friend who had just found out his life's most important secret was not so much as a secret for probably the most important person. Of course, Merlin being Merlin, it didn't matter that he was an Arthur from the future and therefore not actually in any position to kill him or anything. Not to mention that he had just proved that he didn't care-he had talked to _his_ Merlin about spells, for Pete's sake.

But Merlin didn't seem to have thought about that. A small voice in Arthur's mind was of the opinion that none of the above made the impact of the news any more softer on the young warlock, but the king smothered it, choosing to go with his 'Merlin is an idiot' life motto instead.

He felt a wave of exasperation and a wave of panic crash over the guilt as he racked his brains for something to say. Anything, really.

His eyes searched the room and finally fell on the half empty cup of water in front of Gaius. (Who was watching the scene with worried glances that alternated between the pair of time traveling friends and his Merlin)

Arthur took the cup and shoved it into Merlin's face.

"Here" he said, nursing his expression into one that was hopefully very harmless, his tone soft. Arthur suppressed the not-so-harmless glare that fought to break through his composure at the half-sort, half-laughter the old Merlin gave. Honestly, the man knew what was going to happen! If he wasn't going to help, he could at least not laugh in his face.

The king put the desire to show Merlin just what he thought about the fact that the warlock hadn't warned him to keep his mouth shut. He had more pressing matters that his annoying Court Sorcerer. (Ironically, in this case his pressing matters _were_ his Court Sorcerer)

The younger version of the warlock flinched, the shock-induced trance having been broken by the cup that was now inches from his face. The boy stared at the cup for a couple of long seconds, his blue orbs but small peeking holes to the war raging inside of him.

Then, after what seemed like years(at least to Arthur), a trembling hand closed around the cup and the king let go, watching the boy take a very small sip, as if afraid of offending him if he drank too much, then swallowing it loudly.

Arthur leaned back and let out a long sigh, waiting for the information to sink in. He did his best to ignore his Merlin's knowing smile and Gaius' worried glances in their direction, focusing his whole attention on his best friend from the past.

There was nothing to it, so he waited as the seconds ticked by, the tension smothering in the ominous silence.

After a full minute and forty seconds of awkwardness(Arthur had counted), Merlin gave to raise his gaze to him, but his eyes failed him and fluttered back down to his hands. If the king looked closely, he could see the younger man's fingers shaking ever so slightly on the cup.

"So you know" he stated, his voice very small.

Arthur had to remind himself that this Merlin was in a very vulnerable state of mind and that no, rolling his eyes and telling him something along the lines of "Very clever Merlin, what gave me away? Me talking about you doing spells or me arguing about them?" or "Your observational skills have not changed during the years Merlin. I see you are as perceptive as ever", wasn't a very good idea.

"Yes" he said instead. "Merlin-" he began, his voice as soft as he could muster, but the boy beat him to it.

"Do you know everything?"

Arthur blinked a couple of times, but he knew what his friend had meant. Yes, he did. He knew everything Merlin had done and, in this Merlin's case, will do.

"I know everything" he repeated, plastering a reassuring smile on his face.

Arthur saw the change and his smile slipped from his face as his mind was busy with registering it: the young Merlin straightened his shoulders and his blue, haunted eyes finally raised to meet his, steady and strong even as he gripped the cup to keep his hands from shaking, his knuckles white.

"And do you hate me?"

His voice betrayed him, shaking where his fingers had stopped. Arthur felt a thousand different shades of guilt and other emotions wash over him in quick waves in the timespan of a split of a second.

Did Merlin honestly think so low of him? Did he really believe he would hate him for a talent he had been born with, and then for using said talent to save him and everyone else?

The Pendragon's were not known for patience, and Arthur Pendragon seemed to have used it up, for finally the care with which he had tip-toed around with his words, taking care not to scare a younger version of Merlin away, was thrown to the wind in the favor of exasperation.

"Gods, Merlin, you are such an_ idiot_!" the king threw his hands in the air, while one Merlin flinched and the other snorted. "How many times have I told you that I don't care? Let me make it clear to you"

Arthur locked his blue gaze onto the young warlock's slightly darker orbs, leaning forward and dropping his voice to a soft tone.

"I don't care." He said, even as he realized he did care, just not in the way Merlin thought. Of course he cared that his servant was even a greater friend than he'd imagined, of course he cared that he had saved his life a thousand times over. Arthur realized he had to tell this to the young Merlin.

His expression changing to a deliberately unnerving and contemplative smile, he decided to let his past version of an idiot in on his sudden change of heart. "Come to think of it, I do care"

* * *

Merlin felt his heart do a double-take as the words left the old Arthur's mouth.

The warlock had gone from shocked, to panicked, to scared, to terrified, to resigned, to hopeful and now, at the king's matter-of-factly "Come to think of it, I do care", back to panic.

If he hadn't been so busy controlling the emotions that had apparently decided it was in everyone's best interest to fight a war inside his stomach, and gripping the cup of water in his hands, Merlin would have spared a moment to curse and be angry at the damn asshole he called a friend.

As it was, the warlock was left to blink in shock and hope he did not flinch. Again.

Arthur was smiling at him, his eyes taking on a dazed, far-away look.

"I do care that you are a warlock-not a sorcerer-" the king stole a glance at his Merlin, then turned back to him, his eyes boring into his with so much intensity Merlin couldn't have looked away if he'd wanted. "-mind you. I care that you've saved my life and my father's and everyone else's a thousand times, and that you'll save us all a thousand more. It is me who should apologize, Merlin, because I didn't use to see. I left you alone to face everything we should've faced together"

Merlin felt enthralled, too shocked to speak. Earlier, he had been one hundred per cent sure nothing on this earth could ever shock him, but he'd been proved wrong twice in the same five minutes: first Arthur knowing about his magic-or would someday know-and then Arthur apparently apologizing.

"I care about your magic because it is who you are and it's not good and it's not evil: it's magic. No one should be judged by their skills and you have proven that you use yours well"

The future Arthur gave one last smile, one that made Merlin's heart suddenly fly under the sudden loss of a heavy weight.

"So no, I do not hate you"

Merlin could do nothing in the following seconds but process everything, and then he could do nothing but beam and, after probably the longest silence, say a heartfelt and small "Thanks" and break into a shaky smile.

For a moment, Merlin forgot that this was not his prince Arthur, this was not from his time. But even though this king Arthur from the future would doubtlessly go back to his time, it didn't change the fact that one day he will know. One day he will _care_.

So Merlin didn't let it change it, but instead grinned. For one blessed moment, he just grinned.

* * *

**Alright, I know it's considerably shorter than the first two, but I felt like this small conversation should have its own chapter. Plus, this way I didn't end in a cliff-hanger! (They are addictive. I almost didn't manage to keep my fingers from creating it) **

**I promise a longer chapter next time. **

**Sorry and thank you for the long wait. I hope you enjoyed this chapter reading it at least half as much as I did writing it. **

**I will update in three days' time. The usual pace:) **

**Thank you for reading and see you on Sunday^^ **


	4. Chapter 4

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Merlin or any of its amazing characters. All I own is a laptop and this particular story. **

**Hello everyone. How are you this beautiful day? **

**This, my friends, is the new chapter. I doubt there are any spelling mistakes left in here-my laptop stopped working and I had to go over everything _again,_ but one can never be too sure. **

**Anyways, I really hope you like it. **

**Enjoy! **

* * *

Gwen struggled to stay awake as she literally dragged her feet across the courtyard and towards the gate. She felt so tired: she never thought she'd ever felt this tired before.

And it wasn't just the numbness in her legs, the sharp pain in the soles of her feet or the aching of the muscles in her arms. No, that she was used too: it was, after all, how she felt after one of the harder days at work. This kind of exhaustion she was feeling went much deeper than that.

It was exhaustion of the mind, and that combined with the hard days' work numbed her brain and left her body feeling like a sore rag doll that she had to carry around.

Gwen knew she had to talk to someone. She had to talk to someone about Morgana or she _would_ go insane for sure. She remembered how she had felt that night, the cruel smile on Morgana's face as she looked at the box with her eyes blazing gold, the fire lighting those orbs as they turned back to their original color. The girl shivered. She remembered the pure loathing in her eyes, and somehow she couldn't drive the feeling that that hatred was directed at her, at Arthur, at Merlin, at _them_, at them all away.

Of course, she had talked to someone: that night she had run to Gaius. But the old physician, even though he as good as confirmed everything she had suspected, refused to talk anything else on the matter. Gwen got the feeling that Gaius knew more than they all thought-but what could she do? Force him to talk?

The handmaiden raised her eyes, wrapping her arms around herself as a sudden gust of wind sent chills and goose bumps running across her skin through the thin material of her dress.

She gave to quicken her pace, but then saw the gates and stopped, muttering a very unladylike curse under her breath. Gwen turned around, striding purposefully back the way she had come. She had forgotten: a neighbor of hers-Luke, a lanky boy of seventeen-had come down with a fever and she had promised to bring him a potion from Gaius.

Her mind wavered again as she walked, always coming back to Morgana and her lies, the image of her golden eyes haunting her awake moments as well as her dreams.

She had started noticing things as well, these past few weeks. Ever since Arthur's Quest, Gwen had kept a closer eye on her mistress, and what she had found made her worry herself to sleep every night: the way Morgana sometimes smiled at Arthur's back, the way she sneered at Merlin and the way she looked at Uther when he wasn't looking. They were only glimpses, easily confused with nothing more but tricks of the light, but she was no fool. They were glimpses of something Gwen was sure was bigger and darker than it seemed.

Finally, the girl reached the physician's tower and started climbing the steps. But who could she talk to? Arthur was out of the question, Gaius-for some reason she could not fathom-refused to talk, and the only other person she trusted enough to tell them this was Merlin.

Gwen didn't want to get him involved, she though as she raised her hand to knock on the door, but something, some traitorous nagging feeling, told her he was already involved.

She knocked. "Gaius?" she called, willing her dark thoughts away. "I'm sorry, I know it's late. It's Gwen"

Gwen's eyebrows furrowed slightly at the small silence, followed by _several _hushed, panicked voices. Then there were a few scraping sounds and a muffled curse.

"Yes, my dear. Come in" came Gaius' late response, the sound of one final voice saying something very fast in the background.

Gwen opened the door, glancing around the room with suspicion, but all she could see was the old physician sitting at the table across from Merlin, who was staring intently at a cup of water in his hands.

"Gaius? I apologize for disturbing you at this hour. It's just-the remedy for Luke-I forgot to take it and I promised him I'd bring it tonight. I'm sorry" Gwen bit her lip, Gaius already standing up and heading towards one of his packed shelves.

"It is quite alright, child" the physician said, his back to her as he perused all the bottles and herbs in front of him. "Just give me a moment"

"Thank you, Gaius"

Gwen looked around again, trying to smother her suspicion. This was Gaius and Merlin she was talking about. If she couldn't trust them, then who could she trust?

Ignoring her thoughts, she walked to Merlin, definitely _not _noticing how fast he raised his head or the way he fidgeted nervously as he only did when he was lying(or hiding something). Also, she did _not_ notice that her friend was avoiding her gaze at all costs. Nope. Nothing. Because a shifty Merlin would mean that indeed something was going on in here.

"Hello Merlin"

"Hi Gwen" Merlin bit his lip, still not quite looking her in the eye. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, thank you. And you?"

"Fine, fine"

An awkward silence stretched between them, and Gwen had to bite her lip again as she refrained from screaming out in frustration. Something was definitely going on in there. Again, she had to remind herself that this was Merlin. Gwen considered them to be good friends and though it hurt a bit to know that he was hiding something, she knew that he wouldn't do anything to hurt her, or Arthur, or anyone for that matter. He wasn't Morgana.

And for that reason, she decided, she would ignore everything strange she was seeing. Because Merlin was her friend, and she trusted him. He deserved at least that.

So Gwen bit her lip for the nth time that evening and waited for Gaius, then bid them a good night and hurried out the door, pretending not to either hear the loud crash coming from Merlin's supposedly empty bedroom, or see the way both the physician and his ward visibly flinched at it.

Nope, she had seen nothing strange or suspicious there tonight. Nothing at all.

* * *

Merlin let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. For a moment there he thought Gwen would say something. In truth, he was actually surprised she didn't, because there was _no way_ in hell she didn't hear that crash.

The warlock had thought he'd have a heart attack when it happened. And then he'd had to refrain from barging into his room and strangling himself and the old Arthur with his bare hands.

What in all of Albion had they been doing in there? Wrestling? They'd had one job to do: keep silent.

Merlin sighed and let himself slump back into his chair as Arthur's voice drifted to him after the familiar creak of the door opening.

"Is she gone?"

The warlock let Gaius answer them with an exasperated "Yes, she is". He supposed he should be thankful Gwen had let it go, for he was one hundred percent sure she was aware something was going on. After all, Gwen wasn't Arthur. She was smart.

"Thank the Lord!" exclaimed Arthur at almost the same time as the older version of himself let out a relieved "That was close". Merlin didn't have to look to know the other him had that knowing smile on his face again. He could feel it in his voice. Damn it, he had known this would happen. Couldn't he have at least warned them?

Merlin briefly wondered what criticizing literally himself said about him. It couldn't be anything good.

As the two uninvited guests slid into their seats at the table(or rather slumped into them with royal dignity in Arthur's case, and slumped sans the "dignity" in old Merlin's) the warlock suddenly felt very tired. He felt his eyelids growing heavier by the seconds, and his brain was starting to register again the pain in his limbs. He would have to postpone washing for the next morning, because there was no way he was doing anything but going straight to bed right now.

"So now what?" asked Merlin no one in particular. The older versions of himself and the prince shared a glance, but it was Gaius who answered.

"Now we all go to bed" Everyone turned to look at him, but no one protested. They were all tired, he supposed.

"We will all need all the rest we can get, the Gods know that"

Merlin-the old one-stood up, and Arthur followed. "We two could sleep here-we'll manage. You can have the-"

"No" Gaius cut him, and Merlin felt his stomach drop. He had known it would come to this: him having to give up his room, but it came as a hard blow nonetheless. This day was getting better and better by the second.

"It wouldn't do for anyone to come in here in the morning and see you two" Gaius explained. He didn't need to say anything more: they all knew what a disaster that would be.

With an apologetic glance from his older self, he and Arthur disappeared into his room with a simple "Good night".

Merlin couldn't find the strength to stand up even after silence had settled and Gaius had started shuffling around, changing into clothes better fitted for the night.

He didn't know how long he stood there, but somewhere along the road his head must have fallen onto his hands on the table and he must have closed his eyes, too.

In the morning he would wake up in Gaius' bed and have no recollection whatsoever of the two hands gently helping him sleep-walk into it, or the silent "Sleep well, my boy" that followed them.

* * *

Arthur was sitting on the younger Merlin's bed(well, more of a cot, really-but the king had learned in all those years that in situations like these it wouldn't do good if one complained-something about beggars that couldn't be choosers), playing with his fingers as he watched Merlin-his Merlin: the older, supposedly wiser, crazier(though that was arguable) Merlin-where he stood in the doorframe reassuring the younger version of himself.

After they had been woken up that morning(way too early, if anyone asked him) and had a quick and simple breakfast that made the king's appreciation of Merlin's efforts from when he was younger increase tenfold, they proceeded to have one of those conversations in which both Merlin's and himself listened to Gaius telling them about the danger they were all in, warning them to be careful and so on and so forth. It hadn't been much of a conversation, really.

The physician proved again that he could be very incredibly stubborn and had been adamant that the best way to go about all of this was for himself and his Merlin to just stay hidden in the room.

Arthur's every attempt at coming with an argument against the plan had been met and silenced by _the __Eyebrow_.

To the future king's utter surprise, his Court Sorcerer managed to avoid looking at _the Eyebrow_ and his arguments had more of an effect on Gaius, who had, in turn, reluctantly agreed. (Arthur supposed that had to have something to do with the fact that the old physician knew Merlin too well to be fooled into thinking that if the warlock got it into his head to do something, he simply wouldn't do it because he was ordered not to; he supposed Gaius was more at peace knowing what exactly the warlock was doing rather than praying he wasn't doing anything stupid behind his back)

As a result, Merlin was to put some kind of enchantment upon himself and go to the caves beneath the castle, Kilgharrah's old prison, and retrieve a book the future Court Sorcerer insisted was hidden there and that would help them get back home. Arthur was pretty much clueless as to how Merlin knew that, but he had in time acquired the skill to shrug things he did not understand about the warlock off and move on. He could always get his explanations later.

Also, he knew perfectly well how much they were going to stay here, in the old Camelot-he remembered. He reckoned-if his memory served him well-that they had another two days. Arthur grinned. Soon the old him would show up.

While he agreed with most of this "plan", the king was very set upon talking Merlin into letting him join him in the caves. There was no way he was going to lounge in that small room all day. His Court Sorcerer ought to know that.

Plus, the king was extremely sure Merlin wouldn't come straight back-the man had a talent at getting side-tracked and not listening to anyone.

As a result, the king would most definitely go with Merlin.

"Are you sure you're going to be fine?" he heard the young voice of Merlin break through his fading train of thoughts. He looked up again.

One Merlin, dressed in a simple blue tunic and a brown, dusty leather jacket, his trademark neckerchief hanging around his neck, was standing just outside the room. His tousled black hair rose in all directions as he shifted from foot to foot, the very definition of worry and hesitation.

Arthur had to marvel at both the striking similarities and the gaping holes of differences between the two.

Where the young Merlin stood slightly slouched and fidgeted nervously, his older counterpart stood tall, a hand casually holding the door half-open, ready to close it.

They looked so much alike: the same ruffled onyx hair, the same hue of blue in their eyes, the same hint of something more than just what the eye could see hanging in the air around them.

The differences stood as strong as the likes: one Merlin unsure and meek, the other watching with amused eyes full of authority.

His Merlin sighed.

"Everyhting's going to be fine. Just go, you'll be late. And you know how Arthur is" he smirked at the last comment, at which the king huffed loudly and crossed his arms over his chest, glaring half-heartedly.

The younger Merlin didn't look particularly reassured. Another loud sigh passed his warlock's lips.

"I'll take care of him-you know us. We live to serve his royal pratness"

The other Merlin looked ready to argue again, but the older man seemed to have heard enough and closed the door with a "Have fun" and a wide grin.

After the footsteps receded and the front door could be heard opening and closing, Merlin finally let out a heavy breath and slumped into the only chair in the room, facing Arthur.

"What?" the king couldn't help but smirk. "You find it difficult to reason with yourself?"

Merlin glared at him and the king couldn't help but let out a laugh.

"I'll be fine-I've got all those years of dealing with _you_ to help me"

Arthur didn't have time to retort as Merlin sobered up and clasped his hands together, standing up. He motioned for Arthur do the same and the king stood up as well, albeit a bit hesitant.

"I am coming with you" he announced, his voice not brooking argument. (Not that Merlin had ever particularly given a damn if his voice brooked or not any argument) Merlin grinned at him.

"Of course you're coming with me. Do you honestly think I'm that stupid?" Merlin continued, ignoring Arthur's raised eyebrow. "As much as I'd like to leave you here to bore yourself to death, even I'm not that cruel. Besides, I reckon we ought to have a little fun, don't you?"

"So what's the plan?" Arthur asked.

"I'll put an illusion on the both of use so as to make us look like two ordinary servants. That way we can sneak undetected into the caves."

The king nodded, then seemed to remember something. "I've been meaning to ask you about that: what exactly is this book?"

Merlin blinked, then a grin spread across his face and he proceeded to explain.

"It's a magic book an old sorcerer hid down there at the beginning of the Purge. Or maybe earlier-I'm not exactly sure. All I know is that it's old and that it's hidden in the caves. I also happen to know for certain that this one is one of the very few-in truth, the only one that I know of-that deals with time spells."

Arthur pondered this for a moment, still not completely satisfied. "So how exactly do you know it's here? I've never heard you say anything about it."

The sorcerer shook his head, picking up his robe from the small night table he'd folded it neatly on the night before and proceeding to put it on, the golden hem glinting even in the dim light of the simple room.

"I never knew it was it the caves until now. It probably still is in the caves in our own time-I'll make sure to add it to the library when we get back" The warlock looked thoughtful for a moment, choosing his next words carefully.

"When I erased our memories I made sure to tell myself exactly what do to when I remembered. This book was one of those things." Merlin gave Arthur a meaningful look. "Now that we remember what happened those days, I also remember telling myself about this book-its exact location in the caves."

Arthur nodded. This whole time thing made his head spin a little.

"But how did you know where it is when you told yourself? You are now aware of its whereabouts because you remember telling yourself this just before you erased your memories, but how did you know it in the first place?"

Merlin shrugged. "I don't know. Magic dealing with time is dangerous and complicated and even I can't completely understand it. I know now because the me from the future told me in my past, and the Merlin from this time will know because I will tell him. I guess it's like a circle, the information going round and round."

The king nodded, though he didn't completely understand. Arthur decided it was best to let it go and go and get that book before the young him appeared in the picture.

"Right. Let's get going then"

Merlin gave a curt nod and started talking fluently in the Old Tongue. Arthur had never been very good at it, even though Merlin had put a lot of effort into teaching him, but he understood enough to get the gist of what Merlin was saying. Something about appearance and deceit and reflections, eyes and bodies.

Merlin's last words, though, he understood: "_Cunnan æghwa behwierfan beon be Arthur Pendragon ac Merlin_" Roughly, they translated to "May all the changes be upon Arthur Pendragon and Merlin".

Merlin had ended illusion spells on them like that often enough for the king to recognize them immediately.

Arthur felt a warm tingle spread through his body as the warlock's eyes blazed gold under his onyx locks for just a split of a second.

"All done" announced Merlin happily and Arthur followed him out the door, not managing to help from looking at his own hand in curiosity.

Of course, the king had known he would see his own hand, covered in the High Protection armlet with Merlin's sigil-the Pendragon dragon in a golden circle which represented magic. Merlin had explained to him long ago how most spells worked, and even though he usually left all matters concerning magic to the warlock, he had been taught the basics-enough to know that illusion spells such as the one Merlin had used were meant to alter other people's perception of them.

In other words, the king was well aware of the fact that while he could see both himself and Merlin as they were, everyone else looking would see two ordinary servants. It was the thin layer of magic on them that altered everyone's perception-he knew that too.

Nonetheless, Arthur always looked at himself in the mirror after illusion spells. He couldn't help it, even if he knew what he was going to find.

Without another word, the two of them left the safety of the physician's chambers and proceeded to walk through the castle towards the caves, no more than two young servants with familiar and ordinary faces happily going about their business to the rest of the world.

* * *

**Sooo... What do you think? **

**I now some things may be a bit confusing right now, but everything will be explained at one point or another. **

**Also, I hope the story isn't going too slow-I wanted so much more to happen in this chapter, but, as always, things tend to get out of hand. These scenes took way longer that I'd thought they would. **

**Thank you all for reading and reviewing and favoriting and following this story. I am grateful to you all. I will update in the usual three days. **

**See you on Wednesday^^ **


	5. Chapter 5

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Merlin or any of its amazing characters. All I own is a laptop and this particular story. **

**Hello you all. I do hope you'll forgive any mistakes as it is 2:30 in the morning and I haven't slept properly for three days. I can feel my eyelids drooping. **

**So with no further ado, **

**Enjoy! **

* * *

It had always attracted a rather mutinous wave of annoyance and protectiveness toward his people whenever Merlin had decided to humor him with stories of how he had tricked his guards a thousand times in the past. His Court Sorcerer would boast to no end over how he used to slip past the guards at the gates, or the guards down in the dungeon-once even wearing that incredibly funny and extremely-good-quality-tease-material-providing disguise of Dragoon-and then he would proceed to inform the very annoyed king about the sheer stupidity of said guards.

The thing is, Arthur had never truly believed him. Until now, that is.

"I cannot _believe_ they fell for that" the king announced in a low tone for the fifth time, more to himself than to Merlin, who rolled his eyes-even though Arthur couldn't see him. (But he was pretty sure he could hear it in his voice)

"Told you. The dice trick never fails"

Arthur shook his head at the back of Merlin's head, still stunned stupid by the idiocy of his own guards. For the first time since he had named Merlin Court Sorcerer, he was glad that his friend had put up wards all around the castle, the vaults, the caves, and all the other secret tunnels and entrances.

Another thing that had not happened to him before was the sudden lack of shock at all the intruders who had managed to enter the castle in his past, before Merlin's wards. He had used to be pretty confused every time someone infiltrated the citadel: '_How could they have gotten past the guards?_', he had used to say. Well, apparently it wasn't all that difficult.

The king had nearly given their location away when Merlin had told him of his plan to distract the knights guarding the entrance to the lower levels, where the caves were located. It was laughable. How could two trained knights of Camelot, guarding the tunnel leading to the lower levels of the castle under the strict orders of the king himself, be distracted by such childish a distraction as their dice (Arthur had conveniently ignored the fact that the guards were playing a game in the first place) rolling off on the floor? Laughable, that's what he had thought.

So you can imagine Arthur's surprise and subsequent dropping of his jaw a thousand miles into the ground when both the guards-not just one of them, but _both_ of them-ran off into the corridor to their left, chasing after the mysteriously fleeing dice.

Never mind the wards-Arthur decided he had to choose his guards more carefully. Hell, he'd handpick them if he had to. It was ridiculous-the two knights hadn't even stopped one second to question the fact that a dice had suddenly fell from their table and rolled off all on its own into a corridor that went slightly uphill.

The king shook his head. He liked to believe the knights in his own time were brighter, but the truth was he had never given a second thought to who guarded what. It was the Captain of the Guards that took care of all that: organizing the shifts and choosing the people.

If he thought about it, however, he assumed it made some small sort of sense. I mean, all the good knights were part of his personal squad, to call on whenever he needed, and all the other good knights were probably guarding his and Guinevere's rooms, the Great Hall, the Council room, the vaults-the important places. That only left so many knights for patrolling and guarding the less important places, and since all the intelligent knights had been assigned… well, he supposed even less bright people had to be given a chance.

Although, in his opinion, this particular entrance was important enough for at least average-intelligence guards.

The rail under Arthur's train of thoughts abruptly ended when he bumped into Merlin's back. The warlock rounded on him.

"What are you doing?" he asked. Arthur rolled his eyes.

"It's not my fault I can't see a thing. You're the one with the light"

As he said it, his eyes flickered to the blue sphere which floated above Merlin's right hand, bobbing ever so slightly up and down a few inches, seemingly clueless to everything around it, shining calmly as if nothing had ever been or would ever be wrong in the world. That light had always calmed Arthur.

Maybe it had something to do with the incident in the cave with Nimueh, when Merlin had saved him with a sphere twin to the one now hovering over his open palm. Or maybe it was because of the soft hue of sky-blue the light had, almost white but not quite.

Or perhaps the tiny wisps of darker blue that could be seen idly swirling inside the thin walls of the sphere.

The king didn't know. All that he knew was that this particular spell, this sphere of light, had a very calming effect on him.

"Are we there?" he asked, looking around at the uneven walls of the cave uncertainly, his eyes scanning every other odd rock sticking out for hiding places suitable for a book.

Of course, his doubts started to rise when he found that there were no visible signs of any hiding places, but Arthur smothered them. If he had learned anything all these years it was that nothing was as it seemed. That, and never underestimate a sorcerer, no matter how skinny they looked. Merlin was proof enough power didn't always reside in the bulky, muscled kind of guys.

The king noticed Merlin staring at a point on the wall to their left.

"Yeah. It's here."

The warlock gave the ball in his hand a small push and it rose in the air a couple of inches, detaching from the closeness to his palm, then followed him obediently as he began to walk towards the wall. Arthur followed suit.

Merlin stopped mere inches from the rocky surface, placing a hand on the cold damp wall.

The words "There's nothing here" and other similar sentences hung from the tip of his tongue, but the king refrained from saying anything. He knew to expect the unexpected. He was actually very curious.

After he had accepted Merlin, he had begun to learn more and more about magic, and had found-to his surprise-that it was quite fascinating. Or it was quite fascinating _him_.

So Arthur watched silently as Merlin closed his eyes and muttered a single word under his breath in the elegant language of the Old Religion.

"_Aliesan_" Release.

Immediately, Arthur could feel the change in the air. He had come to recognize the feeling: the pleasant, slightly warm tingling sensation that barely prickled his skin-enough for him to feel it but not enough to actually fully register it.

Merlin's eyes were still closed in concentration as the jagged wall under his palm started turning to very soft dust that slipped through his fingers and to the ground beneath their feet with barely a whisper.

As the rock dusted away, crumbling into nothing under his eyes, the king began to recognize the rectangular shape of a book, the uneven edges of the wall around it standing out even more.

Finally, the last of the dust fell to the ground at their feet, and Merlin opened his eyes to see his hand resting over the cover of a book covered in dust.

Ever so slowly, the warlock reached with his other hand and gently took the book out, more dust falling off its rusty cover and old pages.

"Nice" Arthur breathed, his eyes locked on the book that was now being dusted off by Merlin's blue sleeve, revealing its cover to be a dark shade of regal red.

"Neat" said Merlin in turn, and the king recognized the glint in his eyes. Hi friend was impressed.

Arthur tore his eyes off the book and the warlock examining it, glancing at the rectangular-shaped hole in the wall of the cave. He felt very foolish now for having though the book would be hidden under a rock. He should have known better.

Merlin cradled the book almost lovingly in one arm, his other fingering the edge of the cover, then closing around it and carefully starting to lift it…

…only for a hand to drop forcefully on the thick red cover, halting the process and making Merlin jump back in surprise. The warlock snatched the book away from Arthur's hand, clutching it tightly to his chest.

"Are you insane?" he hissed, still edging away, while the king put his hands on his hips and watched in amusement. "Do you want to ruin it or what? Have you any idea how old this book is-how precious?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "We both know what's going to happen if you open that book now, and to be honest I don't fancy spending the day cooped up under the ground"

Merlin opened his mouth to protest, but was silenced by Arthur's raised eyebrow.

An argument seemed to be taking place behind Merlin's eyes, but finally his shoulders sagged and he glared at Arthur, the beginning of a pout forming on his face. (Somewhat putting a damper on the power of the glare, if anyone asked Arthur)

"Fine" he huffed, drawing the word.

He then raised a hand and pointed at the hole in the wall, muttering a forced "_Hælan_" under his breath, his eyes shining a powerful gold. He then pointedly turned his back on the king with a swish of his robe, taking the light with him and forcing Arthur to run to catch up, the dust slowly crawling back into the hole and turning into solid rock behind them.

* * *

Arthur was a proud person. He had always been a proud person, and even if he hadn't been who he was, he still would have been proud, because that was who he was.

However, being the Crowned Prince of Camelot hadn't made him any less proud. In fact, being a prince it raised his pride-which would've been at a pretty tolerable height if he were an ordinary man-to a whole new level. Some said it was so high it often stopped him from seeing past the end of his nose, although not one dared say it in his face. Well, not one except for his manservant.

Because of this exact infamous pride was Arthur now sending secret glances behind his back at the skinny form of said manservant, feeling like a civil war was raging inside of him.

He studied the lanky, thin form of the boy dragging his feet a couple of steps behind him, staring at the ground with an unreadable look on his face.

The prince turned his gaze back in front of him, nodding to a pair of knights heading towards the training grounds he and Merlin were just leaving.

"Good day, Sire"

"Sire"

They didn't spare Merlin a glance as they passed by, and Arthur had to wonder at the small pang of anger that brought. What was wrong with him? Of course they didn't spare him a glance, he was a just a servant.

The prince kicked himself internally. No, he wasn't _just_ a servant. He was _his_ servant. And he was acting strange.

And so Arthur was back where he had come from. Merlin had been distracted all day. The retorts and insults that he was so used with (and enjoyed, even though he would take that secret with him to the grave) had come late and in between longer and longer bouts of silence, until finally somewhere after midday they had stopped coming at all. It wasn't like his servant not to talk for hours like that, especially during and _after _Arthur's training, when Merlin would usually ether take some jibe at him or his knights or make a smart remark about his supposedly increasing weight affected his fighting skills. Or something like that.

Arthur had also never seen Merlin look down or off into the distance so often for so long. Yeah, the prince had seen the boy distracted or upset at times in the past, but this time he looked downright worried.

He _had _managed to get a few clever retorts out of him, but they hadn't been up to Merlin's usual high standards.

And now-now the idiot was walking _behind _him, like a servant was supposed to. Something Merlin had never, ever done.

Arthur didn't want to admit it, _couldn't_ admit it-he was barely able to accept the fact in the safety of his own mind-but he was getting worried.

What could have his servant so preoccupied that he'd act this way?

Arthur had even tried cheering him up with a friendly punch to the arm. Needless to say, it hadn't worked, otherwise he wouldn't be in this situation right now.

It was very frustrating, the prince realized. Because if Merlin had been visibly ill or anything which would have been noticeable to anyone, the prince could have talked to him more easily about it. But as it was, being the only one to know the boy well enough to notice the subtle differences, Arthur's pride wouldn't let him just come out and ask him what was wrong.

Arthur gritted his teeth. This was all Merlin's fault. Why couldn't he just stop acting all strange and making him worry? He was the Prince of Camelot. He shouldn't be worrying about servants.

Just then, Merlin tripped over his own feet for the nth time that day and bumped into his back.

"Sorry" he mumbled, and Arthur felt something break and all the worry rushed up to the surface in the form of anger.

He stopped suddenly and Merlin looked up, his eyebrows rising in a silent question.

"That's it. What is _wrong_ with you today?" Arthur demanded, hands crossing in front of his chest as he glared daggers that would have pierced the heart of his bravest knights at the skinny form in front of him.

Merlin, however, true to form, seemed unfazed by the prince's infamous invisible "daggers", and proceeded(much to Arthur's relief) to be his usual impertinent self.

"Why? Were you worried about me, _Sire_?" Merlin grinned and raised an eyebrow, a twinkle in his eyes.

Arthur snorted, a small amount of weight lifting off his chest at the familiar banter.

"Everyone is entitled to _dream_, _Mer_lin, even useless idiots like yourself" the prince then started striding confidently back towards the castle, Merlin falling into step right next to him.

Another weight flying off.

The prince felt a smile tug at his lips and found it hard to keep it out of his face.

"Whatever you say, Sire"

"Of course it is as I say. I am the Prince of Camelot"

Arthur watched out of the corner of his eye as Merlin's eyebrows both rose up in barely contained amusement, his eyes now definitely twinkling mockingly. The prince did smile this time.

"Is that so, _my lord_? Well then, I guess that means what you said two nights ago about that day off must be true. _Sire_"

Arthur cursed under his breath, his smile falling off his face. He could feel Merlin restraining his laughter.

The prince cleared his throat. "The incident two nights ago shall never be spoken of again, _Mer_lin, am I making myself clear?" he hissed, directing a glare at an oblivious servant. Merlin struggled to keep a straight face, but failed.

Two nights ago there had been a feast in the name of a Lord's brief visit. (Feasts in Camelot were held in the name of any Lord or guest whatsoever) There had been a lot of wine. Arthur had gotten slightly dizzy. (Not drunk, mind you, because princes don't get drunk)

"Ahh, so you are saying that what you said about me being the 'best servant in the entire world' and taking any day I want off doesn't apply to the rule?" Merlin pulled on a feigned innocent expression. "I apologize, but it is rather confusing, sire. Should I do as you say or not?"

Arthur stopped again, leaning dangerously close to his manservant.

"I believe I wasn't clear enough, _Mer_lin, so let me put it this way. Talk to anyone about this again and I'll run you through"

Merlin's lips curled into a smirk and Arthur resumed walking, having made his point, increasing his pace when the boy's feigned innocent tone reached his ears.

"And here I thought you were worried about me"

"Shut up, Merlin"

Arthur and Merlin reached the steps to the castle and the prince gave to climb them, but the latter's voice stopped him.

"Should I send Gaius to you later to check that injury?"

The prince halted mid-step, cursing under his breath. He had forgotten about it. Yesterday, during the ruthless hunting trip when he'd managed to let some steam off-which was a very good thing, because after his one-sided argument with his father about the same feast he had _not _gotten drunk at two days previous, he had had _some_ steam to let off-he had also managed, somewhere between lashing out at his knights and hitting Merlin rather forcefully on the head, to pull off himself a very nice fall.

He had been chasing in front of the others after a deer, without his horse-as the forest was too deep in that area-when a stag had made a rather unexpected appearance and he'd been forced back and fell, hitting his head hard on a tree trunk.

Let it just be said that after that, the knights that had come with him still avoided Arthur as much as they could and the prince had strong confidence they would all find themselves sadly occupied with something or the other the next time he wanted to go on a hunting trip.

Arthur turned, starting in the direction of the Physician's Chambers instead. He understood what Merlin had meant.

Merlin, as much as he wouldn't admit, was more than just a servant. He was his friend, and knew him good enough to know that Arthur didn't want to make a big deal out of it and would rather go himself to Gaius than make the old man come all the way to him, thus attracting a lot of unwanted attention.

When they reached his chambers, Arthur knocked, not noticing how stiff Merlin had become.

"Gaius?" the prince asked as he opened the door, not waiting for a response.

Again, Arthur was oblivious to Merlin's obvious sigh of relief as he spotted Gaius sitting at one of the tables, mixing some herb paste into a bowl with a wooden spoon, a small fire crackling under a pot in the hearth even though it was still day.

"Sire" the physician said, standing up politely. Merlin closed the door behind them, throwing Gaius a look.

"I'm just going to take a minute" Merlin said, but Arthur chose to ignore him as the boy made his way to his room and closed the door behind him.

While Gaius checked the two-inch scratch on Arthur's forehead, prodding it with his fingers as the prince tried not to groan, Merlin quietly slipped out of his room.

Arthur noticed the boy looked a little off again as he patiently waited for Gaius to finish his prodding, and his suspicions returned.

"I believe you are out of any danger, Sire" Arthur refrained from any smart remarks. He had never been in any danger. If only his father wasn't so paranoid all the time. "You should be completely healed in a few days at most"

"Thank you, Gaius" he told the physician, who nodded and sat down again, resuming his work.

Arthur started towards the door, grabbing Merlin's shoulder-which seemed to serve its purpose and get the boy out of his trance.

"Come on, _Mer_lin. You've got a room to clean"

They turned toward the door, only to stop when it opened before they could get there.

* * *

Gaius shook his head to himself, sitting back down and starting to mix his burn salve again. That boy was worrying too much.

The old man knew what was going through his head. He probably thought they had been too long. He sighed again. There was nothing to it.

"Come on, _Mer_lin. You've got a room to clean" he heard Arthur say but didn't look up, knowing he'd see the prince dragging Merlin after him.

Gaius did look up a second later as the front door creaked open again. Would he really get no peace today?

Out of the corner of his expert eye, the physician saw Arthur freeze in place, a hand on Merlin's shoulder, whose face had gone white as a sheet.

Similarly, he could see two young men, probably servants in the castle, stiffen as they entered the room.

They were dressed in plain clothes, nothing out of the ordinary. Even their features were nothing out of the ordinary. They had those kind of faces, usual faces, the faces of farmers-all of them different yet so much the same.

"Can I help you?" Gaius asked, and he couldn't for the life of him figure out why Arthur pushed Merlin back and drew his sword, pointing it at the two young servants who had just walked in.

* * *

**So Arthur the Young is finally here. Yaaay. **

**Anyways, I really hope you liked it. I had some fun writing this, especially the magical part, so I do hope you'll have even half as much fun reading it. **

**Thank you all for reading this and for you reviews. **

**Next update will be on: Saturday. **

**Until next time then^^ **


	6. Chapter 6

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Merlin or any of its amazing characters. All I own is a laptop and this particular story. **

**Hello you all. **

**Nothing more to say I guess... **

**Enjoy! **

* * *

After they had taken the spell book, Merlin had suggested that they walk around for a while: have some fun, now that they were away from their Camelot and their duties. The king had agreed(with a small victory dance inside his mind: he had _known _his Court Sorcerer wouldn't come back right away and he had been _right_!), as it was a far more entertaining prospect than going back to Merlin's old room and sitting around all day, doing absolutely nothing. Sure, the warlock still had to read the book and search for the spell that would get them out of there, but Arthur trusted him. Besides, they would be back in a couple of days, if memory served him right.

At first, Arthur had been against stopping by the kitchens, afraid that they might get caught. After all, only servants in the castle were allowed there and he doubted they could just strode into the palace kitchens, without anyone noticing they didn't actually work there, and steal food.

But Merlin had laughed his concerns off.

"I've been a servant for a long time, Arthur. Trust me, no one will notice anything"

Arthur had given the warlock-who had been in the middle of the process of putting the precious book away inside his robes-a look full of doubt and skepticism.

"You honestly think no one will notice we do not belong here? We are in the heart of _Camelot_, Merlin, not some godforsaken little town at the edges of the kingdom! Surely _someone_ will recognize us for the strangers your illusion makes us to be"

Merlin had tsked, shaking his head with a feigned look of disappointment mingled with amusement. "I believe I've already proved how thin security really is-_was_-around here. Besides, servants are invisible"

This made the Court Sorcerer look a bit sad, but it was gone in less than a heartbeat, so fast that Arthur, had he not known Merlin for as long as he did, might've believed he had imagined it.

"Just follow my lead and don't talk. Act like you belong here and we'll be fine"

Arthur had done as Merlin had told him. He had followed his lead. The king had not said a word as he had followed the warlock into the kitchens, remaining silent as his friend put on the biggest, most idiotic grins of them all, and nodded at several servants like he knew them. Of course, the king realized he must have actually known them from the time he had been a servant himself, but the other people clearly hadn't been aware of this.

However, just like the warlock had said, the several servants had just shot him confused smiles and nodded in return, shrugging the two of them off and hurrying about their business.

Merlin himself spared them no more than a smile and a nod-and just once a full "Good morning" to an older-looking servant-striding around the tables confidently, dodging the people hurrying in every direction possible and making his way through the crowded room with practiced ease.

Arthur had acquired a newfound respect for servants in general, and his ex-servant in particular. He himself had had no little trouble walking through the waves of rushing servants, constantly bumping into everyone.

The warlock had then picked two trays and packed them with food, much to the king's panic, but no one had said anything, just assuming it was their job to deliver breakfast to some nobles in the castle and having their own duties to worry about.

"I can't believe we managed to take these without anyone saying anything" Arthur had told Merlin later as they ate, sitting comfortably in one of the unused guest chambers where no one could find them.

"Makes you wonder how you ever managed to survive all those years before I came, what with the security being so lax"

The king had gone quiet at that, even if Merlin had intended it as a joke.

Truth was, security was indeed lax. _Very_ lax. Arthur himself was amazed Merlin had managed to keep him from being killed by all the assassins and sorcerers and what-else that had tried, when entering the castle was so laughably easy. It had also brought, with a wave of grimness, the realization that because of these poor defenses, Camelot had been infiltrated and conquered countless times, especially when Morgana had lived there.

That had reminded Arthur that in this time, Morgana was still silently betraying Camelot. He had pushed the anger suddenly rising up like bile in his throat away, fighting against the urge to walk to her chambers and run her through with Excalibur. The consequences of meddling with time could be, as Merlin had warned him, grave.

After eating, the two "servants" had wandered around the market, mingling with the dozens of busy people, happy to walk through the familiar bustle and hustle of their city.

Arthur hadn't realized it before, but over the years he had become quite accustomed with the druid merchants, the magicians and sorcerers of all ages in the market of _his _Camelot. It was one of the places the king enjoyed to walk through, usually under one of Merlin's strong illusions.

He found that the market seemed dull without all the sudden fires of all colors erupting out of the blue here and there, without all the strange creatures roaring and children screaming and laughing at them, without all the noise and the strange incantations, all the sparks and globes of light and magical plants, all the peculiar objects floating above the stalls, the merchants advertising their products with their magically-enhanced voices. Arthur missed the curious smells of different herbs, the runes and stalls full of jewelry and crystals and amulets. He even missed the druids, finding the crowd in this market incredibly dull without their bright green and blue robes standing out like colorful ink on a piece of parchment.

Merlin, he had noticed, missed them too. Arthur could see it on the warlock's face, and he knew Merlin had noticed their train of thought was similar as well. But neither said anything, slipping inside the tavern quietly and ordering a tankard of mead for Arthur and one of mild cider for Merlin, who had never really been able to hold his liquor.

Any other time, Arthur would have tried to persuade the warlock to drink something stronger, in the hopes of getting the other man drunk. Whilst in their Camelot that would have been the greatest show of the week for everyone in the citadel, here it would mean Merlin's death.

Last time Merlin had gotten drunk, the whole tavern had ended up covered in ivy, the chairs, tables and walls turned a bright yellow, Gwaine's and Percival's hair turned to a brilliant purple and the owner had refused to let the Court Sorcerer of Camelot enter his tavern for two months, during which pink and bright blue spheres of light could be found floating about.

"I wonder what Gwaine and the others are doing" Merlin said as he sipped from his drink, setting the mug on the table and looking at Arthur with an unreadable expression on his face. Again, it seemed as if their thoughts had gone in the same direction: Camelot and their friends.

"Yeah" the king answered softly, taking a swig from his own mug. "Me as well"

They stood like that in silence for a while longer, each lost in their own thoughts about home. Arthur's sudden dry chuckle got Merlin's attention.

"What?" he asked the king, a smile of his own making its way on his lips.

"The Order must be going insane by now"

Merlin blinked at him for a few seconds, before chuckling quietly.

"You're right. Gods, I haven't thought about it. Imagine what Tiron must be going through. And Lehaa!" Merlin's smile suddenly slipped right off his face, an expression of sheer horror replacing it. "Oh dear Gods, she's going to kill me"

Arthur couldn't help himself. He burst into a fit of laughter, Merlin's horrified glare making him laugh even harder.

Finally, even the warlock joined him, and it wasn't long before people began sending the two servants doubling with laughter odd looks.

The king wiped a tear from the corner of his eye away with his thumb, panting.

"I wouldn't want to be in your shoes when you face Lehaandra"

Merlin grimaced. Lehaandra was his second-in-command, and Tiron was his third. Technically, Merlin was the leader of the _Gylden_ Order, or the Order of the Golden. Or, as the common folk referred to them, simply the Golden.

They were Merlin's special squad of magic users. Sorcerers, druids, and even a warlock that his Court Sorcerer had handpicked. Every member of the Golden had knight training, and had been trained by Merlin himself in the art of sorcery, especially combat sorcery.

Of course, there were those of the Golden that were specialized in healing magic, those that were specialized in combat, those that were specialized in protection wards and shielding, and so on and so forth.

The purpose and the job of the Golden were the protection of Camelot and its King, Queen and Prince-namely Arthur, Guinevere and their son. A few of the Order were part of Arthur's personal guard, Tiron-expert in combat-being their leader.

Even if Merlin was their official leader and founder, the Golden was often commanded by Lehaandra, given that Merlin's many duties as Court Sorcerer occupied most of his time.

Of course, all of the Golden were fiercely loyal to Merlin, Arthur and Camelot. That was the condition and quality by which Merlin chose those who were given the honor of joining the _Gylden _Order.

"Yeah? Well we shall see what Tiron has to say to _you_" Merlin retorted, downing the contents of his mug and regarding Arthur with a smirk. "And I just cannot wait to see how Gwen reacts"

Arthur felt his own smirk slip and he tried to be casual, downing his own mug in one go. "The Gods help us both when Guinevere sees us"

The warlock's smile slipped a little, too. Never mind Lehaa and Tiron, Gwen would have both their heads.

With an air of mournful resignation, the both of them got up, Merlin leaving a couple of coins he had "burrowed" from his younger self earlier on the table. They left the tavern in silence and made their way through the significantly smaller crowd. Arthur noticed it was past midday already.

"You know, there are some things you have to explain to me" he told his friend, studying Merlin from the corner of his eye. "For instance, why did you give him the notebook?"

The other man looked amused. "That one is pretty obvious"

Arthur scowled, and Merlin shook his head. "Don't worry, I will. As soon as I find how to get us back, I will."

They walked the rest of the way in silence.

* * *

Arthur had been worried that he wouldn't remember how his older self had acted in his past. He had worried that he would forget all that had been said and would end up doing something wrong and changing their whole lives. Merlin had emphasized last night how dangerous time magic was. Meddling with time was no game.

However, he needn't have worried. Everything seemed to fall into place just perfectly. Things were happening just as he remembered without him even having to try.

The king had forgotten his younger self would be in the room, and apparently so had Merlin, because when they got to the physician's chambers Arthur pushed open the door without knocking and they entered. And only then did Arthur suddenly remember. How could he have forgotten?

He could see Merlin stiffen instinctively beside him at the sight of their younger selves freezing on the spot.

Getting over the initial shock, Arthur realized Merlin's illusion must still be in place, for Gaius raised his gaze questioningly, asking "Can I help you?" even as the young Arthur pushed the other Merlin behind him and drew his sword, pointing it at them, adopting a defensive stance.

The physician's eyes studied prince Arthur's sword, then studied them, but the king knew he couldn't see them as who they were. He briefly wondered why his other self could.

"What is the meaning of this?" demanded his younger self, his voice more of a shout. Arthur was suddenly glad there were no guards at Gaius' door.

The king had to suppress a shudder. It was weird, hearing his own voice talking to him. Looking at himself. It was an indescribable feeling, incredibly unnerving, and he found himself not liking it very much. Despite all that, however, he felt a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He already knew what was going to happen. It had all happened to him before. Arthur could see the younger Merlin grimacing behind this young Arthur, looking to Gaius for help and shifting from foot to foot, his blue gaze desperate.

"Please do try to calm down. We mean you no harm" It was _his_ Merlin who spoke, shutting the door behind them, and Arthur heard him mutter in the Old Tongue under his breath the familiar "_Cunnan æghwa behwierfan ablinnan be Arthur Pendragon ac Merlin"_. May all changes cease upon Arthur Pendragon and Merlin. The incantation for ending a spell was most of the time so much shorter than the original one, Arthur mused briefly.

A second later, the familiar tingle of warm magic washed over him, and judging by Gaius' loud gasp and subsequent "Oh, dear", the illusion had been lifted.

"What kind of sorcery is this?" the young him demanded again, and Arthur tried not to flinch. It would take some adjusting to hearing his own voice from the outside like that.

The young Arthur took a cautious step towards them, the tip of the sword coming dangerously closer. His Court Sorcerer raised his hands in a harmless gesture. "We do not mean you any harm" he repeated. "Actually, we need your help"

Seeing the young him hesitate, Arthur decided it was time he spoke up.

"We are you from the future" he told him, and immediately saw it had been a mistake, as the other Arthur's face hardened and all hesitation disappeared. He cursed himself and his big mouth as prince Arthur's fingers tightened on the hilt of his sword. The king kicked himself mentally, ignoring both Merlin's incredulous glares that were sent his way. It was usually Merlin who opened his big mouth and ruined everything, but it seemed as if he was no better. The king had not believed the warlock when Merlin had accused him of lack of tact and subtlety all those times in the past, but it looked like there was some truth to it after all.

"And you honestly expect me to believe that?" his younger self's tone was sharp, and the king realized, in some distant part of his mind, that he was arguing with himself.

It was then that Gaius decided to finally step in.

"Sire, if I may, this is a very big misunderstanding. An incident has taken place. If you would be as kind as to withdraw you sword, I am sure we can all sort this…" the old man gave them a withering look that clearly advised against talking. "unfortunate situation."

His younger self didn't look particularly reassured, his gaze constantly darting between Gaius and the two older men in the room.

Even though he had known this would happen, Arthur found himself as surprised as everyone else when the young Merlin spoke up. The king had nearly forgotten he was there in the first place. Every eye in the room turned to stare at the manservant, all of them equally surprised by his words that, though spoken quietly, rang throughout the room.

"Arthur, _please_, put the sword down"

The young prince rounded on the young Merlin, sword still pointing at the other two.

Merlin the young looked a bit afraid, but he had a determined glint in his eyes. Arthur felt suddenly very proud of him. Only Merlin had ever been able to get through to him and he knew that he was going to be the one to make him see reason this time as well.

His Merlin elbowed him to get his attention and grinned smugly. Arthur ignored him.

"You don't believe them, do you?" Young Arthur's tone was full of disappointment.

The other Merlin sighed loudly. "Just put it down, Arthur. Listen to what they have to say."

"These impostors-" he turned his back of his manservant, facing them again with a hard look in his eyes, no doubt measuring his odds against them and the best way to run them both through. "-are _not_ us! They are not from the "_future_" or whatever else they say they are and anyone who believes them is a fool. I knew you were naive Merlin, but this..." His eyes glinted like ice, and he resembled Uther so much in that moment the older Arthur felt a shiver run through him. "This is _sorcery_"

He started walking towards them again, and Arthur wondered if perhaps his memory really did serve him wrong. But then came Merlin's shout, which stopped both Arthur's dead in their tracks and made their gazes rise up to the skinny servant in wonder. Arthur had only ever heard Merlin shout two or three times in his life like that, and it had always shaken him to the core.

"Arthur, just this once will you _listen to me_!"

Merlin had an almost angry expression on his face, all traces of fear gone, his knuckles white as his fists trembled. The king stared at the boy. When had that happened? One minute, the young Merlin had been pleading and the next… the next his eyes were blue pools of fire, his jaw set and his hands balled into fists at his sides, looking at his Arthur with a ferocity that would've made lesser men cower. In moments such as these, Arthur realized just who Merlin was and just how powerful he was.

The servant breathed in deeply and slowly uncurled his fists, seemingly oblivious to all the eyes staring at him.

"For once in your life I'm asking you to trust me" he said quietly, lifting his eyes to lock them of the prince's.

The words hung in the air, hovering over the tense silence that followed, and Arthur could see himself and remember the way the young him was studying his servant. He knew that in those moments, he had been torn between his duty to Camelot, wariness toward the two strange men, and his own doubts and hesitation and, most of all, his trust in Merlin.

Merlin had never failed him, he had thought back then. He had thrown himself in front of daggers for him, drunk poison and followed him to fight dragons. In times of need Merlin had offered him advice and stood by him, never failing, never leaving and never asking anything.

And now he stood, for the first time asking Arthur to trust him. Something as simple as that: _trust me_. The king remembered what he had chosen and knew what he would choose.

The young Arthur held his servant's gaze for the longest minute, and then sheathed his sword, rounding warily on the older king and his Court Sorcerer, his tone icy.

"I want a thorough explanation of this"

The king of future Camelot smiled, while the servant visibly breathed a sigh of relief. He would get his explanation. His Merlin smiled too and gestured wildly in the direction of the table.

"We had better all sit down"

* * *

**Soo... This was entirely Arthur the old POV. What did you think? **

**I know it was shorter but lately I've been so busy I barely had time for this. **

**Anyway, hope you enjoyed it. **

**Next update will be on Tuesday:) **

**Until next time^^ **


	7. Chapter 7

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Merlin or any of its amazing characters. All I own is a laptop and this particular story. **

**Hello you all. **

**So, I actually have my chapter ready on time for once. This is such an amazing feeling-I feel free, like a bird soaring through the summer sky:) Rambling on again. Sorry. **

**Anyway, I do hope you'll enjoy the chapter. **

**Enjoy! **

* * *

This was not good. Merlin could tell when something was not good, he recognized the signs, and all the signs currently indicated that this was definitely _not_ good.

Merlin had some experience with situations that were not ideal. He'd been in a few: poisoned chalices, friends betraying the king, princes you're supposed to protect running off despite all of your warnings towards certain doom, dragons on the loose, fathers dying, girlfriends dying, destiny requiring you to do something you would _really _rather not be doing, _being born with magic in a place where magic is illegal_, etcetera, etcetera. Things like that.

So yeas, Merlin was very familiar with situations that were generally considered "bad" and this was, in his humble opinion, one of them.

Indeed, the whole idea of a future version of himself and a future version of his best friend/prince/prat/Arthur Pendragon suddenly popping up into existence in Gaius' and his shared chambers was not a very happy one in the first place. Especially in Camelot, where-and Merlin felt the need to emphasize this-magic was _illegal _and punishable by _death_. A very painful kind of death.

But then again, the warlock had been breaking the law since the moment he was born, so that particular detail wasn't exactly a new feeling for him.

The situation had therefore not been ideal from the very beginning, when he'd walked in on the time traveling versions of himself and Arthur. But Merlin had come to terms with it: it was what it was. There was no point in panicking about it and there was nothing he-at least the version from this time-could do about it either. For once in his life, the warlock was just content to lay back and leave someone else to fix the mess. (In this case, ironically, he was actually leaving it to himself to fix the mess, but that wasn't the point)

But, of course, he wouldn't be Merlin and this wouldn't be Camelot if things didn't turn for the very worst possible. Merlin had often wondered if the Gods just got their kicks from putting him in situations such as these-because there really wasn't any other explanation for things always going wrong-the worst kind of wrong, no less.

As a result, Merlin guessed he shouldn't even have been surprised when Arthur-his young, magic-hating, oblivious Arthur-had been in the wrong place at the wrong time and had found out about their little "situation".

The warlock supposed he shouldn't bother to get surprised anymore-it just took up so much time and energy. Maybe he should invent a potion or a spell that didn't let you feel shock or something.

Merlin shook his head, forcing his mind to focus on the situation at hand. He studied Arthur-_prince_ Arthur-carefully.

They were all seated at the table, Arthur and him on one side facing the old Arthur and Merlin on the other. Gaius was the only one not sitting, currently busy making some more calming tea, but there was a spare chair for him at the head of the table, between the pairs of royals and warlocks.

They had all settled at the table after his outburst-which Merlin could still scarcely believe had happened himself-and no one had said a word. Well, Gaius had announced he would be making tea, but other than that, not a sound.

There was a thick and thoroughly uncomfortable silence in the air, that Merlin could practically feel it: a strong, unpleasant pressure pushing on his chest.

Arthur was pointedly not looking at him, and had not looked at him since he had convinced the prince not to kill both of their future versions, choosing to glare daggers instead at the two uninvited guests in question. If looks could kill, Merlin was sure he would be looking at two older versions of him and Arthur sporting daggers sticking from their chests.

The prince's face was hard, his jaw set, as he sat tensed on the chair, his hands clasped on the table in front of him, looking ready to lash out at the men across from him any second. However, while his eyes appeared mere pools of icy glares to the untrained eye, Merlin could see his mind working behind those blue orbs, could see the prince considering the possibility of these intruders actually telling the truth; could see him studying them. Merlin could see him doubting his earlier skepticism.

The warlock looked back at the other two, still pretty amazed himself. He wasn't a vain person, at least he didn't think he was, but for some reason every time he turned his gaze on the old Merlin, it seemed to fall on the silky, midnight blue robe the other man was wearing, on the strange sigil of the Pendragon dragon inside a golden circle, on the round pendant hanging heavily at his neck, burning a gold brighter than anything he'd ever seen, the engraved dragon looking almost _alive_.

Merlin tore his eyes off the medallion, just as Gaius voice broke the silence like a knife.

"Merlin, would you help me with these?" he called, and two chairs scraped against the floor as two figures rose at the same time.

"Coming"

"Certainly"

Ringing silence settle again in the room as everyone turned to stare at the two Merlin's, who had both stood up to help Gaius. Merlin could feel Arthur's accusing gaze boring into his back, but he chose not to look.

The older Merlin looked a bit flushed, much as he himself felt, and they broke into identical sheepish grins.

"It's okay, I'll just-" he tried, but clamped his mouth shut as he realized the other Merlin had spoken at the same time: "No, it's fine, let me-"

They looked at each other, the older him in amusement.

"Oh for the love of-I'll help you Gaius" said the old Arthur, standing up with an exasperated sigh and walking towards the physician, muttering something that sounded like "I swear, you two…"

Merlin looked at Arthur the king as he took two steaming cups from Gaius, then his gaze turned to his older self again. The man shrugged and sat back down with an amused smile on his lips.

The warlock sat down as well, stealing a glance at _his_ Arthur. The prince was still glaring, but he had known him long enough to recognize the amused twinkle in his eyes that he was trying to quench. He suppressed a smile: maybe this wasn't such a disaster after all.

"Right" said the old Merlin after they had all settled back and drank from the hot tea(except the young Arthur, who had yet to even look at his cup). Nobody protested as he seemed to take the lead. Merlin suppressed a sigh, feeling immensely relieved and grateful.

"I know you find it very hard to believe this, and it is completely understandable" began the other Merlin in a polite, neutral tone of voice. "But it is true. We _are_ you" Straight to the point then, thought the manservant bitterly.

At the old warlock's words, the prince opened his mouth, no doubt ready to protest, but was silenced before he could even begin.

"Don't-just hear me out and you can be a prat about it later, alright? Just, hear me out"

The other Merlin let this sink in, and only after the prince gave the smallest of nods of approval did he continue with a sigh.

"We can prove, I mean Arthur hear can prove that we are really who we say we are. You can ask him anything after I'm done explaining and I'm sure he'll convince you he is, indeed, you. But first.

"We come from the future-your future-exactly fourteen years and a half from now. You, Arthur, are king when we come from" he paused, again letting the information sink as he looked into the young Arthur's eyes. Then he ran a hand through his hair, sighing. "Arthur and I were in the middle of examining a magical artifact when we, um" The other him blushed and the king Arthur rose his eyebrows at him. "There was an _accident_. We ended up here by sorcery, it is true, but it was an accident. We mean no harm and we really are who we say we are. That's… pretty much it"

The warlock tried very hard not to laugh at the future king's expression, which clearly said something along the lines of "_Really_?". He could even hear his voice in his mind, dripping with sarcasm.

Silence stretched on. And on, and on. On stretched the silence as Arthur kept staring at the two "impostors", not moving a muscle, his mind working out through everything that had been said.

"An accident?" he finally asked, no inflection whatsoever in his voice, not even sarcasm. Merlin realized the prince was trying to go about this from an objective point of view. He supposed that was a good thing.

The other Merlin hurried to nod. "It was an accident"

Another couple of seconds passed in silence, and then prince Arthur relaxed, his shoulders slumping a bit as he heaved a long sigh.

"Alright, let us suppose what you say is true. How can I know that you are not lying? How can you prove you are indeed me?"

At this, Arthur stared into his older counterpart's eyes, and the king from the future stared back. Then, a huge smirk spread onto the future man's face.

"Well, I could spill out your deepest secrets right here and now, but that would not bring me any benefit, given the fact that they are my secrets, too" He seemed to ponder it for a bit, then shrugged and lay back in his chair, his hands entwined in front of him on the table, looking kingly and demanding respect even when smirking. "So I'll just leave it up to you, because I know for a fact that nothing I could say on my own will convince you. What do you want to know?"

* * *

"What do you want to know?"

What _did_ he want to know? Arthur wasn't sure. He wasn't even sure what was going on, a sense of permanent confusion still hanging like fog inside his brain, even though everything had supposedly been explained to him.

It all just seemed so-so _surreal_; so impossible to believe, to digest. The prince felt like he'd been thrust into a parallel world and he wasn't sure the fact that this was actually, really happening had fully sunk in. It seemed like some sort of dream to him.

At first, he had been shocked. For one moment, he had been incredibly shocked. Pure shock had washed his brain clean of any other emotion or thought.

But then he had recovered, and his instincts had taken over. He had drawn his sword and pushed Merlin back, unconsciously slipping into a defensive pose in front of the skinnier man, placing himself between the servant and the two strangers who posed a threat. That was the problem, however. Arthur wasn't sure anymore if they posed a threat or not.

Only one thing was sure in his mind, standing out like a lone island in the middle of an ocean of confusion: magic was somehow involved. And that had been enough for him and he had handed the reins to the warrior inside of him, eliminating all traces of logic, doubt or anything else. There was a threat at hand and he had to protect his stupid friend of a servant, his old confident and father figure Gaius and his city-his people. Because where sorcery was involved, all of Camelot-the lives of everyone he cared about, was at risk. That was what he had been thought, ever since he was a little boy: magic was dangerous and it turned whatever it touched into evil.

As a result, nothing else had mattered in that moment, nothing except his duty towards his friends and towards his people.

Arthur had shrugged off their explanations, his trained mind already forming a plan. And then Merlin had shouted at him. Merlin: the skinny, gangly, goofy manservant who drank poison for him and followed him into battle even though it wasn't his place or duty to do so, Merlin who challenged him and spoke back, Merlin who advised him and comforted him and quelled his fears when they overwhelmed him. Merlin-his _friend_-had begged him to listen, to trust in him.

Merlin trusted these people and he trusted Merlin. So he had listened.

And Arthur had listened, he really had. Even though it seemed so impossible, so unbelievable, even though his mind was constantly firing logical arguments against the explanations he was presented with, he _felt_ they were telling the truth.

Arthur Pendragon was a leader, a warrior, a logical man. He didn't trust in hunches and funny feelings and he laughed at superstitions. But he always trusted his instincts. And his instincts, as much as he dreaded it, were telling him that this whole incredible explanation of this mess was the truth.

There was also the fact that these two men looked so much like them. The prince had felt like looking into a mirror, albeit one that didn't exactly get the age right. And that man had his voice, too: a little bit harsher, but his nonetheless. An uneasy shiver ran through him every time the other man spoke. If nothing else, he definitely sounded like him.

And the other one. Gods, the other one even had Merlin's smile, his vibe. He was just so-so _Merlin_. A wiser, older Merlin with more authority in his voice; and with puzzling robes of royal quality. That was one of Arthur's main confusion sources: the man that looked like Merlin was dressed like a noble and even wore the Pendragon sigil at his neck-a pendant that was twin to the one on the other man.

Arthur sighed. This was all so unbelievable. So confusing. How was he supposed to find out if what they were saying was true? What could you ask yourself to see if it was really you?

Suddenly, inspiration struck him. It was simple, and maybe even foolish. It didn't actually give him any clear answer, didn't require the man to tell any of his secrets that no one could no-but then again, if these people really were trying to pretend to be him and Merlin, Arthur supposed they would have done their research-but it was the best he could come up with.

"What position does Merlin have in your Court?" Arthur asked, the fine silk of the robe the man in question was wearing visible from the corner of his eye.

The supposed future version of himself smiled at him with an amused glint in his blue orbs.

"He is my First Advisor" he answered simply, and the prince nodded.

Arthur Pendragon had always, very deep down, considered Merlin to be his friend. He had always known the servant was more than he looked. He was not the idiot nor the coward Arthur always accused him of being. Arthur didn't know if he really would go as far as make the idiot his Advisor, but given the power to do as he wished, to marry and befriend and talk to whomever his heart desired, if he was honest to himself, he guessed he would want Merlin there with him. And even if this seemed impossible, he had to keep an open mind: after all, who knew what the future might hold?

After another beat, Arthur raised his gaze to meet a pair of identical cerulean eyes and asked the simplest, stupidest question of them all, his tone dead serious.

"If you are me, then why in the name of all the Gods did you make this idiot your Advisor?" he asked, looking neither at the old Merlin who gave a laugh, nor at the confused-looking manservant at his side.

The other man smirked.

"I have reasons to believe I was possessed at the time. I still have people looking into it"

Arthur felt himself smile and, for the first time that day, didn't try to stop it. Merlin trusted these people. And now he trusted them, too. The prince guessed he had always known they were telling the truth. His instincts certainly did.

Arthur feigned a heavy sigh of exasperation. "Then I suppose we have got ourselves a situation" he said, and while one Merlin looked slightly concerned, one merely exasperated and Gaius only watched everything with his expert eye, the other him smirked deeper.

"Don't we always?"

* * *

**Thank you for reading. **

**I would also like to thank everybody who reviewed-your support is very much appreciated and it makes me more glad that I can say. I apologize though for not answering your reviews-I never seem to find the time-but please know that I always read all of them and am very grateful for all your kind words or constructive criticism. **

**I originally intended for this to be longer, but at the end decided to leave it at this. Hope it isn't going too slow-now that all the lead-characters, so to say, are in on the "situation", I plan to dive into the plot. **

**Thank you again. **

**See you on Friday^^ **


	8. Chapter 8

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Merlin or any of its amazing characters. All I own is a laptop and this particular story. **

**Good evening everyone. **

**This right here is the new chapter. I don't believe there's anything else that needs saying, so on with the story! **

**Enjoy! **

* * *

"I propose that we find names for the two of you" Gaius said, delving head first into the relieving-if somewhat confusing-silence that had settled after the young Arthur had finally accepted the situation. (Or, to put it bluntly, seemed to agree not to kill them/go to the king) The old physician gestured at the two future intruders. "So as to avoid a repeat of the earlier incident"

Merlin the old nodded thoughtfully, his eyes taking on a dazed, far-away look as he no doubt started pondering what names they could use. Both the Arthur's seemed to agree as well, the younger one rolling his eyes exasperatedly at the sight of a very confused manservant. Gaius himself had to suppress a roll of his own eyes-_of course _Merlin would be the one not to catch onto what everyone else was talking about. (Well, at least _one_ of the Merlin's)

The prince smacked Merlin across the back of his head, and Gaius felt a smile-that he covered quickly-starting to take shape on his face.

"We need names for them, you _idiot_, otherwise every time someone calls one of us we'll have twice as many people answering"

At Arthur's words, a look of dawning comprehension seemed to lighten the puzzled dimness of the-most-powerful-to-ever-live warlock's eyes.

"Oooh" was all he exclaimed. The physician thanked the Gods for small miracles as his charge at least had the sense to blush.

"Yes, _Mer_lin. That"

Gaius was grateful when whatever Merlin had been about to say-and it wouldn't have been anything pretty, judging by the glare that he was sending Arthur's way-was cut off by his older counterpart. "Well, I reckon we could use anything, really" he turned towards the old Arthur, his eyebrows rising questioningly. "Any ideas?"

The other Arthur smirked. "Actually, yes. I could be-oh, I don't know-Tiron, and you can be…Hm…" the future king paused dramatically. "What do you think about _Dragoon_?"

Gaius had to admit-the older Merlin's reaction to that was hilarious. The man visibly flinched, his expression changing from shock, to horror, to one that for all intents and purposes was nothing short of _murderous. _His younger charge looked utterly confused, as did the prince, and he himself had to wonder-not without an ounce of dread-what that was about. What had Merlin done-or rather, _will _do?

The physician wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"Certainly _not_!" the old Merlin may or may not have shrieked, flinching again, his face dark.

Prmpted by such a violent response, the prince Arthur seemed to recoer from his confusion. "I don't know" he said, smirking already. "It does seem to have a certain… something"

The other Merlin-soon to be Dragoon-rounded on the prince, then back to his Arthur, looking rather out for blood. The manservant on the other side of the table had a funny look of something between confusion, amusement and protest plastered on his face, as though not sure who he should side with.

"I know! It does, doesn't it?" the old Arthur turned towards the younger one, and they looked so alike in that moment Gaius had to blink.

"Yes, yes it certainly does. And I think it would be easy enough to remember"

The future Arthur nodded. The present Arthur nodded.

"Yes, then it is settled. He is to be Dragoon and I shall be Tiron"

"Oh no you won't" growled Merlin-_Dragoon_, scowling. "If I am to go by _Dragoon_" he spat the name, "then you Arthur will go by… by…"

"Yes?" the other man looked amused.

Finally, after a few seconds of deep frown and lips pressed in a thin line of concentration, Merlin seemed to have found something too, although if he was to go by his pout, Gaius would guess it wasn't nearly as satisfying as "Dragoon". Whoever had come up with that name had had to be insane, the physician thought. "You will be _Garrah_"

_Garrah_? Gaius had no idea what that was supposed to mean, but judging by the slightly narrowing eyes and Arthur's pressed lips,_ he_ knew.

"If this is a reference to who I think it is…" Arthur-_Garrah_, Gaius corrected himself-let the threat linger in the air, although everyone in the room was well aware that such subtle-or even the less subtle-threats did not work in any way on Merlin. The physician hardly thought time would have changed that, and he was not a moment later proven right.

"And who do you think it refers to, I pray? Or would you prefer Galahad?"

While "Garrah" sounded somewhat familiar for a reason the old man couldn't fathom, "Galahad" didn't ring so much as a bell.

The older Arthur grimaced, while Mer-Dragoon smiled.

"Thought as much"

Garrah snorted. "Fine. I shall be Garrah if it pleases you, _Dragoon_" Gaius had to refrain from laughing at Dragoon's face, although Arthur certainly didn't have such reservations-even though _he_ was the prince.

"I believe" began Gaius, finally starting to feel the effects all the shock and drama. "we should all call it a night, sires" he glanced around the table at them all. "Arthur, you should probably go so as not to be late for supper with your father"

Arthur nodded, standing up. The prince threw a last hesitant glance at Garrah and Dragoon, before striding purposefully towards the door.

"Come on, _Mer_lin. You still have a room to clean"

Merlin shot the two an apologetic glance, then proceeded to follow Arthur out the door, if somewhat subdued.

"I'll see you later" he turned toward Dragoon. "Make sure he doesn't _fly_ out of your reach" he winked, then walked out.

Dragoon stared after him for a blank moment, before bursting into laughter. It seemed Merlin had understood what Arthur's temporary name meant. The expression on Garrah's face could be described as nothing but sour. He stood up.

"I will retire for the night. If you will excuse me" he nodded to him, completely ignoring his friend's increasing laughter. "Gaius"

Garrah turned on his heels, making a beeline for Merlin's small room, the rather powerful slamming of the door the only indication that he heard the warlock's next words.

"Don't be so mad, _Garrah_. I wouldn't want you to accidently set yourself _on fire_"

Then Dragoon proceeded to laugh some more.

* * *

The time when he had upset the dragon so badly that Kilgharrah had "accidently" set his cloak on fire had _not_ been his fault. Arthur still didn't think it fair that after all this time, Merlin continued to tease both him and the Great Dragon with it.

It was the only thing he and the dragon had ever seen eye to eye on, really. The king had never really liked the creature, and he in return didn't seem to like him very much, always complaining about how "You were right, young warlock. You indeed seem to be the brighter side of the coin"

Arthur had never been able to stand Kilgharrah's tone of voice, or the pompous speeches he seemed to be so fond of, or his arrogance, or his cryptic, so-called form of "help" he offered them from time to time, or-well, the list went on for a while. Merlin said it was because they were "too much alike".

Arthur begged to disagree.

The king also wasn't that much fond of flying. And, he unfortunately had to admit, he had had to ride that annoying dragon several times: the most unpleasant two experiences of his _life_.

Arthur sighed to himself. Even he had to admit, even if only in the safe confines of his own mind, that what he and Merlin were doing-messing around with names in the middle of a "crisis" of sorts-wasn't very wise, or kingly of them. But while he may be prepared to admit, Arthur wasn't even anywhere near actually acting upon these traitorous thoughts.

The king hadn't had so much fun in a long time. Yes, they still had fun in their time, too: they messed around more often than not, especially when they were left alone-or with the Knights of the Round Table-but they always had their duties hanging above them somehow. The fact that he was _the king_ was always there, at the back of his mind, just at the edge of his awareness. That responsibility hung over everything he did: whether it was sleeping, getting drunk(that didn't happen very often) or actually ruling. It was always there, and he knew it was the same for Merlin.

Merlin was the leader of the druids now, and along with everything he was supposed to do as Court Sorcerer, leading the _Gylden_ Order and protecting Arthur, the warlock also had to take care of all the clans: Merlin always had to be on the lookout, had to maintain peace between all the druidic clans, had to offer support and advice, to meet with the druids so as not to become too distant a leader, etcetera, etcetera. Basically, Merlin had to be the king Arthur was to Camelot for the druids, while also having his duties as his Court Sorcerer.

And it wasn't an easy feat, Arthur knew that much. He would go as far as saying that he, as _the_ king, was better off than the warlock. Yet Merlin did it all, never complaining, as usual, and still found the time to joke around now and then. That was just the way the other man was.

But it was always there-their roles and responsibilities were always there. Here-here, he felt _free_.

For the first time in a long time, Arthur felt free of all the burdens of running a kingdom, of all the burdens of being a noble at all. Here he wasn't the prince-they had one of those-he wasn't even Arthur Pendragon-they had that, too. He was just Arthur.

In this time, the king and Merlin were completely and utterly free, not having to think or worry about anything at all, because they were outside of _this_ Camelot. They didn't belong: this Camelot didn't need them. She had protectors, princes, warlocks and kings.

Arthur smiled. He felt younger, and knew he had been acting more childish than he'd had in years, but he couldn't help it.

The creak of the door opening broke the king's happy train of thought, but made a huge smirk grow on his lips.

"Tired already, _Dragoon_?" he asked a yawning Merlin, who glared in response and proceeded to ignore him, going to the bed roll he had insisted on sleeping in. (Arthur was supposed to have the cot, being the king and all, but he planned on making them switch places every night. While he was aware Merlin couldn't be convinced-he was to stubborn-he had his ways of getting his way: tonight after the warlock fell asleep, Arthur was going to move him on the bed.)

"If you must know" Merlin said, pausing by the only, small wooden table in the room and retrieving the book from his blue robes, placing it on the harsh surface gingerly, as if it might break, "Yes. I am a bit tired"

"_H__ydan_" Merlin whispered with a flash of golden in his eyes. Conceal.

Arthur watched as, in the blink of an eye, the book whooshed out of existence. He raised an eyebrow, and Merlin shrugged.

"A mere precaution" he explained, then slipped out of his robe and willed it to fold itself and settle on the single chair in the room wth another flash of gold.

The warlock walked to the wardrobe, opening it and shuffling a little inside, before emerging with a bundle in his arms. Arthur caught the two plain items of clothing that were thrown at him.

"It's all I can give you, sorry" Merlin smiled sheepishly, closing the wooden doors, his own set of nightclothes under his arm. "But I can enlarge them if they're too small"

"Thank you" said Arthur simply.

At first, it had been hard. Very hard. But over the years, Arthur had grown wiser, more mature, and now the words "Thank you" came easily to him, especially when they were directed at Merlin. "I'm sorry", however, still seemed not to like him very much.

"Aren't you going to start searching for the spell tonight?" he asked the warlock, and Merlin's gaze went briefly to the place where the invisible book lay.

"No" he finally answered. "No, I'll start reading it tomorrow"

Arthur nodded. He was tired, too.

Besides, tomorrow was going to be a long day. He remembered it, and smirked. Yes, tomorrow would be a very _interesting_ and long day.

* * *

**Thank you all for reading.  
**

**Again, hopefully it wasn't too short or too slow. I know I promised going further into the plot, but I felt like this needed to be said, needed to happen. I just hope it isn't boring you all, because I just had _so_ _much fun_ writing this one. **

**Thank you again and I guess I'll see you on Monday:) **

**Until then^^ **


	9. Chapter 9

******DISCLAIMER: I do not own Merlin or any of its amazing characters. All I own is a laptop and this particular story.**

**Hello there. **

**New chapter's up, as you can see. **

**Enjoy! **

* * *

Merlin made his way across the empty corridor, breakfast tray in hands and yawning loudly, with no fear of being seen. Even though most of the castle, both staff and not, was up and about by this hour, the warlock had been in Camelot long enough to have learned of the old corridors that hardly anyone used anymore. He knew the castle like the back of his hand: all the crevices and alcoves, all the tunnels and the caves beneath, all the weaving hallways that even servants had forgotten about and that made it so much easier to get to his destinations, all the disused cottages and dusty guest rooms where guests were never placed.

Sunshine poured through the windows as the warlock passed them by, shadows of gold spreading beneath them on the floor like royal banners, burrowing his messy raven locks a golden glow whenever they touched him.

The corridor was most beautiful in the mornings, Merlin mused, and during the nights, when the moonlight streamed in much like the morning sun, laying silver on the cold floor at his feet. The nights especially he liked: they reminded him of his first night in Camelot: the time his eyes had widened in wonder at the huge walls of the castle, the elegant velvet of the of courtiers, the impressive swords of the red-capped knights gleaming in the sun; they reminded him of that first night he'd stuck his head out the small window up in the Court Physician's tower, looking down at the whole city dressed in the light of the moon, breathed in the fresh air of the night, of a new beginning; he'd seen thousands of possibilities stretching before him that night, barred under the silvery light and the small twinkles of the torches below the open sky.

Merlin had never quite imagined things would turn out this way.

Not that he wasn't happy here-well, as happy as he could be, given the circumstances. But Merlin had never been one for circumstances, the result being that he was content: he didn't mind being a servant, he actually enjoyed it sometimes, and he was more than grateful for his friends-for Arthur and Gwen and Gaius, even Lancelot and Gwaine, who he was sure he would see again someday.

A sudden pang of sadness rang through his heart. That was the thing about these secret corridors-they were like a double-edged blade.

The echo of his loud footsteps on the stone floor reminded him of someone that not so long ago had been amongst those friends: Morgana. His greatest failure, his deepest guilt. All the nights he had followed her through empty halls such as these-and all the nights he'd no doubt do it again-flashed through his mind's eye like a razor.

Merlin shook the thoughts away, picking up his pace. He'd be late again, and that was the last thing he wanted or needed right now, what with all this mess that he had on his plate. Merlin had no idea how he managed to get into situations such as these, but he somehow always did. The warlock was sure that even when messing up would be impossible, he'd still be able to find a loop hole.

Of course, now there was the problem of how he would deal with it, because as much as he wanted to lay back and let others solve this, he knew he could not. After all, this was _his_ mess. Well, _will be_ his mess in the future, but he couldn't just pretend it wasn't here now; because it was.

The thing that worried him the most was that Arthur knew though. Merlin was sure the other him-ah, _Dragoon_, they'd decided to call him-would find a way to get his and Ar-_Garrah_'s hides back to their time, but things would have gone so much smoother had Arthur not found out.

As it was, the warlock had to make up some kind of lie. Again. Because Arthur will start firing questions anytime now, and someone would have to be there and explain just how the two intruders will be getting back to their time. It wasn't like he could just go and tell the prince that "Oh, don't worry Arthur. Dragoon will cast a spell to get them back. What-did I forget to tell you? I have always had magic".

Merlin suddenly felt himself growing very frustrated. Those two should know what to do; they had been here before. Surely if they remembered-and he knew they did-they must have known Arthur would find out. They could've prevented it!

The warlock bit his lip, realizing he had reached the doors to Arthur's chambers. He pushed them open with his left hand, not bothering to knock or make his presence known just yet. The prince was still soundly asleep anyway, his sores ringing loudly through the room.

The servant placed the tray on the table and went to tend to the fire, still deep in thought. Maybe they couldn't change how things happened in the past. He hadn't got the chance to talk to Dragoon yet, not really-not about this; last night they'd both been asleep when he came back from cleaning Arthur's room. However, Merlin wasn't stupid: he could guess that magic that powerful, dealing with time, had to be tricky and dangerous. He himself had seen what seeing the future could mean: the incident with the Crystal Cave was still fresh enough in his mind for him to shudder as he stroked the flames.

Merlin had thought a lot about the Cave incident, and had come to a theory of sorts: the moment he had decided to look at the future, he had changed it. That day, he hadn't seen the future that would have happened had he not looked, he had seen it as it happened _because_ he looked. The moment he watched it, it changed. Future was tricky like that. The warlock couldn't even begin to imagine what seeing their future selves would mean later, but for the moment he had bigger problems to take care of. He couldn't think of that.

In that moment, Merlin decided the other him must know what he was doing. He must either be making his own past come true accidentally-like he himself had done with Morgana-or perhaps he was making it happen as it should on purpose. It didn't much matter, that was a problem that was not his own. He would let Dragoon deal with it.

For now, he had his own problems: meaning he had to think of a cover story. The night before, he himself had been tired beyond belief after a day of following Arthur around and stressing out over their "guests", and then he'd stressed out even more when Arthur had found out. He knew he had been slow last night at the table, but not slow enough not to notice the fact that the prince had been too shocked to think properly, too. Which could only mean one thing: today, after a good night's sleep, Arthur would start asking questions. And Merlin was sure one of them would be "How are we going to get them back?" The warlock knew the prince well enough to know that, and Arthur could be pretty predictable at times.

Merlin walked to the curtains, gripping them and pausing one last moment in front of them. He was back where he'd started then: what was he going to say?

The warlock yanked the curtains back with maybe too much force, blinding sunlight rushing in like the waters of a raging fall.

"Rise and shine!" he yelled at the room, plastering a huge idiotic grin on his face and whirling around to face the future king of Camelot with his hands on his hips. He had to at least keep up the pretences.

There was some loud growling, a couple of muffled curses, and sure enough the goblet which had been carefully emptied of water by Merlin and strategically placed on the night table within easy reach by Arthur made his way flying towards the grinning servant's head, courtesy of the prince.

"Shut up, _Mer_lin" were the automatic first intelligible words.

Merlin expertly ducked just in time, the sound of metal hitting stone following close behind. The warlock grinned.

* * *

It was midday when the question finally came. Arthur had finished with all of his morning duties and inspection of the guards, and he was now in his room finishing up his meal. If Merlin hadn't been sure before, his confidence that the prince would start talking had grown during the morning. The very fact that his master had all but picked through his lunch, even now tossing food around with his silver fork on his plate, a sure sign that the dreaded moment was close.

Despite having had all morning to prepare, as well as being fully aware that it was coming, Merlin didn't feel it made things any easier.

Had the prince not been so preoccupied, he would have noticed his servant tensing all up when he finally spoke his mind.

"How do you reckon are we to help them get back?"

Out of sheer need to do something instead of staying still and racking his brains in panic, Merlin reached forwards with the water pitch and topped the already half full goblet of water in front of Arthur to refusal.

"Who?" he distantly asked, growing more and more nervous. He hated lying. He was so rubbish at it, especially lying on the spot. Why couldn't the _other_ him do this? The warlock felt the unfairness of the universe very sharply clawing its way into his stomach in that moment. It always fell to him to do the explaining.

Arthur threw him an "Are you kidding me?" look. The prince didn't even need to say anything, and Merlin blushed a bit and backed away, making sure to avoid eye contact.

"Ah. You mean _them_" he could feel the bitterness in his own voice. Why him?

"Yes, of course I mean them, you idiot. Who else could I be talking about?" hissed and exasperated Arthur in a low voice, waving his fork around threateningly.

Merlin felt himself shrug. This was it. He heard the prince sigh tiredly, as though dealing with Merlin exhausted him more than any training with his knights.

"So, now that we're both talking about the same thing-what do you think we should do?"

Merlin gulped, suppressing the urge to reach and fill the goblet again with the reminder that said goblet was now full. Maybe he should play dumb-yes, that had always worked. Or ignorant.

"Perhaps we should let them take care of it" he decided to say, after a long silence. Maybe Arthur would swallow the truth for once: because really-this was his honest advice for the prince. There was nothing they could do anyway. Well, nothing _Arthur _could do-Merlin was sure he had the power to perform whatever spell necessary if push came to shove.

"_What_?" the prince shouted, realizing too late he had raised his voice. He glanced around, then leaned in closer over the table, hissing indignantly. "Are you _insane_?! We have to do _something_! I can't just sit around and do nothing! This is our problem as well"

Arthur leaned back, his face contemplative.

Merlin suddenly felt very tired. Maybe it was all the shock he had suffered in such a short amount of time, or maybe it was the exasperation Arthur was driving him into. Or perhaps it was the drag of having to lie again, and again and again, coming up with more and more excuses. The warlock didn't know, but Merlin decided to put it as bluntly as possible.

"They won't be able do to it without magic, you know" he deadpanned.

A huge curtain of silence fell over the room, making the atmosphere freeze. Merlin straightened his back, resolved not to back down on this. Perhaps this was the time for Arthur to understand some things. He watched the prince.

Arthur had frozen, staring blankly at the plate on the table before him. He stood like that, unmoving for a couple of seconds, then suddenly he jerked back to life, his gaze furious as he practically attacked Merlin.

"_What_?" he hissed darkly, a word which would have sent his knights stumbling over each other to do his bidding. Merlin met his deathly glare head-on. Blue collided with blue.

"You heard me" he said quietly, politely even.

Merlin could see it: Arthur had expected him to back down. Maybe pretend he hadn't said anything in the first place. Well, tough luck.

The prince watched his servant with an unreadable expression on his face: an unreadable, _ruthless_ expression that reminded Merlin of Uther too much.

"_No_" his words were like ice.

Merlin considered actually backpedaling, but somehow he just didn't feel like it today. It could have been that he had seen the way the others interacted: _that_ Arthur listened to _his_ Merlin, treated him with respect and friendship. It was possible he was forgetting his place, but hell-Arthur owed him at least this tiny slip-up.

"And how do you suggest they get back to the future then?"

"You would do well to remember your place" the prince snapped, and immediately regretted it-Merlin could see it in his eyes-but the warlock shut down at that, putting up walls he usually didn't bother with around his friend. Fine. If Arthur wasn't going to listen to him, he would give him what he wanted for once. He picked up the tray from under the prince's nose.

"I'll take this to the kitchens, _sire_"

* * *

"I'll take this to the kitchens, _sire_" Merlin said coldly, his voice detached, but Arthur could see the hurt and anger in his eyes.

He hadn't meant to lash out at him like that. They were more than servant and prince-both of them knew that. But Arthur had been angry: angry not at Merlin, but at the fact that what Merlin had said was true. There was no way for the two of the future anomalies to go back to their time except for how they came: through magic.

The price had to be honest with himself at least: he didn't like that one bit. He had been raised not to trust magic; he _didn't_ trust magic. The one time he had tried to, and he had been proven how dangerous it could be: he had nearly killed his father because of the careful lies of a witch.

But it was more than that. For some reason, whenever magic was brought up he always got irritated. Because deep down, he knew the laws weren't exactly fair.

Arthur watched as his servant-his _friend_'s face closed up completely, as the other man he had come to know so well picked up the tray with his lunch leftovers and bowed slightly.

"Merlin-" Arthur tried calling out, but the boy was already out the door by the time he'd managed to get the whole name past his stubborn lips.

The prince stared at the door for a full, whole minute. Then he stood up and grabbed the nearest thing he could get his hands on-a goblet full of water-and threw it with all the force he could muster to the ground, watching the water spill. Merlin would have to clean that water, he realized with another surge of inexplicable anger.

Merlin was right. The prince knew he had to apologize, but shrugged it off for the moment. The boy would come round in his own time. But at least he had made his point, something which few had ever managed to do.

As a result, right now Arthur was busy planning the use of magic behind the king's back, in the most magic-hating kingdom the world has ever known.

* * *

**Thank you and I know, I know-short again. But I've barely managed to get this up. School's been such a pain lately. I'm sorry, I just didn't have the time to write more. Hopefully this will suffice:D **

**The next chapters might be of similar length, too. **

**Thank you all again and thank those who let me know my young Merlin was going a bit off-canon. I appreciate and thank you for your sincerity, especially since you were right-I kind of lost track of him for a bit there:) **

**Anyways, hope this is a step in the right direction. Tell me what you think? **

**See you all on Thursday^^ **


	10. Chapter 10

******DISCLAIMER: I do not own Merlin or any of its amazing characters. All I own is a laptop and this particular story.**

**Hello you all. This isn't usually like me, but I finished this earlier-I got out early and had some time to kill on my hands. I have been hovering over the "Post next chapter" button for a while now, and I finally deicded to give you all an early (Orthodox) Easter present and post it one day earlier. **

**I really hope you like it:) **

**Enjoy^^ **

* * *

"You _knew_?" The warlock jumped at the sudden shout, the slamming of the doors making his gaze round on the figure storming inside.

Merlin had ignored Arthur all day. Ever since the little disagreement they'd had in the morning-more of a case of Arthur-being-a-prat-about-something and Merlin putting up with him, really-the warlock had resolved not to talk to the prince until he had apologized. He had seen it in his eyes, just before he'd left his chambers to take away the unfinished breakfast, that Arthur was sorry. Merlin knew how the prince felt and he even knew why he had reacted the way he had: Arthur wasn't just an ordinary, proud young man-he was a prince. And not just any prince at that, mind you, but the _crowned_ prince of Camelot, Uther Pendragon's son. This position brought with it definitely too much responsibility, as well as a healthy dose of pride that, added to the amount he already possessed, made Arthur Pendragon a pretty proud person. Add that to the fact that he was also very stubborn and used to get his way, and it doesn't take a genius to figure out why exactly he hadn't been very eager to admit that he was wrong and apologize to a servant.

But the situation got even more complicated than that: as Uther Pendragon's son, Arthur had been brought up in a hatred-against-all-things-magical factory, and even though he had begun to sometimes challenge his father's views in private, Merlin knew the prince wasn't exactly on magic's side. So yes, he did understand why the situation was particularly unsettling for Arthur, and why the magical solution to it should have been brought into discussion in a more… treading-on-mined-ground kind of way.

However, Merlin had put it to the prince bluntly. Even_ he_ wasn't usually this straightforward, but for a strange mix of not entirely known reasons, he had gone straight to the point and told Arthur there was no way their "guests" were going away without the use of magic.

The warlock knew the prince agreed, he understood his reasons for not wanting to admit it, for wanting to delay, for shouting at him like that and practically telling him to sod off because he was just a servant. And usually, Merlin would've shrugged it off, because that was how Arthur was-he didn't really mean any of the things he said. Not this time, though. No, this time the prince would get nothing but silent treatment from Merlin until he properly apologized.

So Merlin had gone out of his way to do his job quietly, politely answering when asked with the stiffness and lack of emotion any proper servant would-something he knew Arthur didn't like. He had turned a deaf ear to all the prince's attempts at conversations, and after a while Arthur had become irritated and started ignoring him as well. That was probably fueled by the fact that Arthur had realized he wasn't going to get out of this without actually admitting he had been wrong, and obviously he didn't like that.

And after that, Arthur and Merlin had both been busy.

Now it was nearly evening, the final rays of the late afternoon sun slipping through the holes and slits between the boards of poorly nailed-together wood of the stable walls. The light was reddish and warm on Merlin's skin as he worked, brushing the dark mane of Arthur's favorite stallion. This horse was the most beautiful horse he had ever seen, Merlin mused as he put his palm against the soft hair of the animal, feeling the vibrations as it neighed, shaking its head. Merlin gave a soft laugh, stroking the stallion gently. It had very dark, reddish hair, which turned to bright golden brown where the dying rays of orange light touched its back.

The light warmed him, and as he started brushing again Merlin felt, for the first time that day and in a long time, at peace. He had always found it relaxing, tending to Arthur's horses, but this quiet afternoon it felt even more so. The horse snorted, shaking its head again and anxiously tapping his hoofs against the hay covered ground.

"Shh, I'm almost done" Merlin whispered to it, smiling. "So impatient, just like your master"

And that's when, as if on cue, the prince burst through the doors of the empty stables, his hair tousled, the tips of a few stray locks brushing against his eyes. He looked around, a wild, angry look that made Merlin's stomach knot in dread plastered on his face. Merlin tensed, and the horse neighed yet again, moving away from him to eat some of the hay as it realized the brushing session was over. The sound gave away Merlin's location, however, and Arthur locked two accusing eyes filled with the flare of Pendragon anger on the warlock.

"You _knew_!" he nearly yelled, stomping to the servant so fast that Merlin momentarily forgot he was supposed to be the angry one, and backed away a couple of steps.

"What?" he asked, blinking rapidly. Artur had come to a sudden stop at an arm's reach away from him, and he was barely holding in together, shaking with anger.

"You _knew_, didn't you?" the prince spat quietly, and Merlin noticed his hands were curled into tight fists, his knuckles white.

Merlin didn't think he had ever seen Arthur so angry before, and his stomach churned as all the possibilities flashed through his mind. The warlock straightened his back, looking up to his friend. He would not back away-he was still mad at Arthur. Whatever this was about, there was no reason to give up on his own pride now.

"What the seven hells are you talking about?" he asked. Well, he could at least let go of the polite answers he had given all day long-it had been so tiring to hold all those quirky remarks back.

Arthur's eyes flashed again dangerously, but his voice was quiet and his tone composed. Which, Merlin mused, was not of the good: the less anger Arthur showed, the more angry he was. So the prince was probably _very _angry.

"You told me there was no way for them to get back without magic. You were right, there isn't. But there's more than that isn't it? I wondered why you weren't worried at all. It's because you know they _already_ have a way of doing that. You _knew_ and you _didn't tell me_"

Okay, there wasn't any mistaking it now: Arthur had probably found out Dragoon had magic. But why didn't that shock him? Maybe he was out of shock. His body probably needed to restock before he would be able to feel shock again.

Merlin watched Arthur carefully for a full minute, in which the prince didn't move an inch, staring right back. Then he opened his mouth to tell him that no, he hadn't known.

Somehow, what got out instead was a calm "Yes, I did". The prince looked the tiniest bit taken aback at that. He had probably didn't actually expect Merlin to admit that he had known. Hell, _Merlin _hadn't even expected that. He was a bit surprised his mouth had for some reason decided to go and disobey his brain, sprouting the truth for once instead of the carefully planned lie he had been preparing.

"Why did you keep it from me? Did you think I wouldn't find out? Did you hope for it?" Arthur's tone was slowly increasing. "Didn't you think it would be nice to let me know that _he_ is a bloody _sorcerer_?"

Merlin felt his own anger flare inside him, trying to claw its way out. Arthur was being unfair, but at the same time he was right: he was supposed to tell Arthur these things. But he couldn't. How could he? How could he tell the prince of Camelot something like that?

"You are a _sorcerer_ in the future! Did you already decide to practice magic?" Arthur went on, now glaring at him accusingly. "Are you already planning on doing it? Hell, maybe you already are a sor-"

Merlin couldn't keep it in anymore. He shouted, cutting off Arthur mid-yell. He couldn't stand there and let the prince talk to him like that, not when he was already mad at Arthur, not when the prince wasn't entirely right. Not when the frustration of all those lies he couldn't let go of had been increasing these past days, when he'd seen what things would be like without them.

"And what was I supposed to do?" Arthur stopped, not expecting the interruption. "What, Arthur, was I supposed to tell you? 'How was your day sire-by the way, did you know my future self uses magic?'"

"YES! Something like that would have been _great_! Maybe then I'd have known-"

"And how would you have reacted?" At this, the prince stopped, his anger subsiding a bit. Merlin drew in a breath, trying to calm himself. Being mad wouldn't help.

"Would you have taken it well?" Merlin asked more quietly, almost tiredly. "If I _had_ told you? I can't talk to you about _magic_, Arthur. No one can. Only this morning I tried telling you something you already knew-that there is no way for them to return without the use of magic. Remember how you reacted?"

_You told me to remember my place_, Merlin thought bitterly as he looked up into Arthur's eyes. There was a quick flash of shame behind the anger there.

"That was different" Arthur muttered, suddenly avoiding his gaze.

"How exactly was that different?"

The prince looked somewhere over Merlin's head, his expression flushed with anger and stubbornness. "It just was, alright? That doesn't change the fact that you lied to me!" his gaze rounded on him again, and Merlin's subsiding anger flared up once more, like the flames of a great fire. The light was almost gone now, leaving the two prince and servant engulfed in a grim semi-darkness.

"Fine! I'm telling you now. What will you do?" Merlin snapped, daring the prince to answer. He was getting tired of all this.

Arthur did a double-take, and Merlin seized the opening. "Will you arrest them both? Will you arrest Dragoon? Or maybe both Dragoon and me, since we're one and the same. Actually, you should just execute all four of us, since you will consort with a sorcerer in the future. That's what the law says, doesn't it?"

* * *

Arthur was seething. He was so angry, so mad at everything and everyone. He wasn't even sure who exactly his anger was aimed at-probably the whole situation. He was mad at himself, he was mad at Merlin, at the future Merlin, at the future him, at Gaius, at his father, at the law, at his title, at everything.

Why did the situation have to be so complicated? Why could he be just Arthur, and not prince Arthur? Admittedly, it wouldn't have been an easy deal even for an ordinary peasant, because in Camelot the very mention of the word "magic" was synonym with death warrant. But or him it was even harder. And the situation had already been magical to begin with.

Arthur felt like he was being torn apart, pulled in a thousand different directions. Magic was supposed to be evil, and thankfully all magic he had seen so far had stuck by that rule, and made it easier for the prince to turn a blind eye to the unjustness of some aspects of the law. Now, though, a future version of his servant just _had_ to appear and reveal himself to be a sorcerer, of all things.

But Merlin wasn't evil. Arthur knew that much. Of course, the future Merlin could be evil, only that he wasn't: didn't look evil, didn't talk evil, didn't feel evil, hadn't done anything evil. It was still just Merlin, albeit a wiser and nobler one. Yet he had magic.

Oh, and it didn't stop. The whole thing just got more and more awful by the minute. It seemed his future self condoned the use of magic. And somehow Arthur didn't felt that surprised at this information, and not even that sceptical. The problem was: he could see himself consorting with a sorcerer-at least if that sorcerer was Merlin.

Which led him to another problem: Merlin had known this all along. The boy had even confessed it. But how long had his servant known it? Had he just found out? Was he already thinking of practicing sorcery? What if he was already _practicing_ it, however laughable that idea may be? Truth was, Arthur had never exactly asked the boy anything about his views on this particular subject, but he knew Merlin wasn't exactly a magic hater. Did he even hate it at all?

Furthermore, there was his duty: it was his duty as Arthur Pendragon, crowned prince of Camelot, to protect the kingdom and abide by its rules. He wasn't supposed to condone the use of magic, much less this close to him, in the heart of Camelot, in his heart-for Merlin was his fired, future or no future.

Arthur felt like smashing something. What was he to do now? Magic was evil. But Merlin wasn't evil. Yet he will have magic. But he lied to him. Yet that didn't exactly make him evil. Still he had to do his duty-if Dragoon had magic, he was to be executed. But him and Garrah had come here by magic, they couldn't exactly go back without it., and they couldn't stay either. He should arrest both Dragoon and Merlin-it's what his father would do: one was practicing magic, the other was covering for him and would one day _become_ him, thus end up practicing it himself. Yet, then again, maybe he won't, now that he knew. What if he already did though? Those tolerating and concealing sorcerers must be arrested as well. So he should arrest both Garrah and Draggon. And Merlin.

The prince felt his head spin. Maybe he should really arrest himself and the other three. All four of them should be executed and that would be that.

Why was he so torn up by this? It should be easy: either give up on his duty as a prince or betray his friend. Arthur stopped, blinking to himself, feeling like he was in the eye of the storm. He was either to betray his kingdom or his friends. It was an easy question really. A question of loyalty.

"Will you practice magic?" the question passed though his lips before he could stop it. He hadn't even been aware he had spoken out loud, not until Merlin's confused and slightly bitter "I'm sorry?" cut through the train of his chaotic thoughts.

Arthur looked up, the word "nothing" on the tip of his tongue. When he opened his mouth, however, he realized he wanted to know this after all. There wasn't any way this could get any worse, whatever the answer would be.

"After all this is over, will you start practicing magic?"

Arthur watched Merlin closely. He was so thin, he noticed. It had gotten dark now, only a dim glow penetrating inside, barely enough for the prince to make out the shady figure of his lanky servant. He could also half-see, half-picture the familiar mop of ruffled raven-hair, the ever-present neckerchief Arthur still didn't know why Merlin was wearing, his old leather jacket and patched trousers, his blue shirt that matched his usually cheerful eyes. Merlin didn't answer, just stood there, frozen for the longest moment, chewing unconsciously on his lower lip.

And then started walking, brushing against his shoulder as he passed him by, and Arthur was left staring at the place where the servant had been. He could hear his stallion's neighing and Merlin's footsteps fading away beneath the sound of his pounding hear. Fear dug sharp claws into his stomach and ran icy fingers thorough his chest, raising to the surface of his mind a concept that had been unfathomable until now.

Was it possible that Merlin was already practicing magic?

* * *

Merlin wanted to tell him yes. To say "I was born with magic, Arthur". He was angry and scared and sick of the lies, sick of the secrets. He wanted his friend to know.

But the words wouldn't get out. He tried, and tried, and tried again, but the damn words wouldn't leave, his lips wouldn't part to let them out. His throat wouldn't give birth to the sounds.

Merlin didn't breathe, couldn't breathe. He stared at Arthur's left shoulder, not daring to look him in the eyes. Finally, the warlock gave up, letting his body relax, his shoulders slumping as a dull ache was left in his muscles. He couldn't do it. Suddenly, all of the anger melted away into a huge wave of sadness. He couldn't do it.

Yet somehow, he couldn't tell him no. Not this time. Merlin just didn't find it in his heart to lie this time. And maybe it was a selfish thing to do, because he knew how much Arthur needed to hear this answer. the prince's question was bordering on desperate, hanging above them in the air. Merlin had earlier been able to hear the bustle and noises of the inhabitants of the castle heading home from beyond the walls of the stables, but now there was just quiet; quiet and a distant echo of the day that had gone.

He couldn't lie, but he could tell the truth either. So he walked away.

* * *

**Hope you liked it. Thank you for reading:D **

**These last two chapters have been young Merlin-Arthur relationship centered, but don't worry, I haven't forgotten about the others. They'll be there in the next chapter. **

**What did you think?  
**

**I'll post the next chapter on Saturday:D See? I've managed to knock my whole schedule out of order because of this:D **

**See ya later^^ **


	11. Chapter 11

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Merlin or any of its amazing characters. All I own is a laptop and this particular story.**

**Okay hello you all. This is the new chapter:D Again I had to hurry up and post it earlier, but this time it's because I have to: I just realized I'm leaving for the weekend tomorrow, and won't be able to post, so I'm doing it now. Even though, technically, it's already Saturday-it's seven past midnight. **

**Enjoy! **

* * *

"Have you found it yet?" asked the king for the nth time that afternoon.

Arthur was beginning to grow bored. There was nothing particularly entertaining for him to do there, and he was already considering taking a walk around the caste. He could see nothing useful for him to do here, in Gaius' chambers.

Arthur had tried making some remedies earlier-mixing plants, boiling herbs, things like that-but he'd never been any good at medicine, and his skills were limited to just that: boiling and mixing-two things he had done plenty that day, enough to make Arthur believe that if he'd never have to mix another foul smelling paste in his whole life, it wouldn't be enough.

During the morning they had remained in Merlin's small former room, but it had soon become obvious that the space was way too small for both of them-especially with Arthur having nothing to do. As a result, Merlin had cast another illusion over them, this time making sure to include Gaius among the few people that would be able to see through it, and had moved into the main room. There, the Court Sorcerer had continued pouring over the book and the king had humored himself with helping Gaius however he could with his potions.

The physician had come and gone during the day: in the morning he had gone to do his rounds, then he had come back and they had all eaten a small lunch together with the younger Merlin-who had come looking rather grim and hadn't spoken too much. Arthur remembered and he could guess why: he must've already had the argument about magic being the only way for them to leave with the younger him. The king recalled he had been pretty stubborn and unfair that day-not that he was ever going to admit it.

After that, Gaius had taken over the potion-making process and the young Merlin had left to attend to his duties. The following hours had gone by in a similar fashion, and now Gaius had left again, this time to do his evening rounds and Arthur was thoroughly, completely bored.

Merlin didn't even raise his gaze at Arthur's question, his chin resting on his fist as he lazily flipped another page of the old spell book. Arthur could tell even the warlock was bored. "Are going to keep asking me that? I told you I'd let you know when I find it"

Arthur pressed his lips together, unconsciously playing with a wooden spoon on the table.

"But must you read through it all? Why can't you just-you know-_magic read _through it? I've seen you do it before"

This time, Merlin did look up, an exasperated expression covering his face.

"Yes, I could search the book magically" he began, and Arthur opened his mouth to ask him why he was wasting time, if that was the case, but was cut off quickly "_But _that only works if I know what I'm searching for" Merlin let this sink in, then lowered his gaze and resumed his search when the king's shoulders sagged.

"Which you don't"

Arthur could see a small smile tug at Merlin's lips. "Which I don't" he agreed.

The king sighed, letting go of the wooden spoon and looking around the room, as though the cure to his boredom could be found hidden there. His eyes fell on a shelf full of dusty books and scrolls, all tossed together in heaps and piles in between jars of suspicious looking substances. An idea struck him.

"Isn't the spell for getting back in that notebook of yours that got us here in the first place?" he asked, feeling quite proud of his own revelation.

"No" Merlin deadpanned, completely blowing the king's momentary joy. "The spell wasn't all that clear to begin with, and you've seen what happened when I first tried getting us back" he gave Arthur a look, and Arthur mentally blushed. Right. They had ended up here, in the past. "Do you honestly think recasting that spell would be such a good idea?" Merlin drawled on, as if talking to a small child.

The king huffed indignantly. "Where's the notebook anyway?"

"Why?" there was a funny twinkle in Merlin's gaze Arthur knew meant a smart line was coming. He cut his friend off before that could happen, standing up.

"I'm going to walk around for a bit. I can't stay here anymore" Arthur left, not looking behind at the smirking Merlin and ignoring the shouted "Make sure you don't get lost"

Arthur made his way through the halls, feeling old memories start to rise to the surface of his brain. This was the old Camelot, the Camelot where he'd lived ignorant to the truth of the world around him, to all that was really happening behind his back, ignorant to the sacrifices of his servant and to the plans of his sister. This was a dark version of the castle, a version he had not thought of in a long time.

He remembered Uther and how the kingdom was under his rein: how the people lived with that constant sliver of fear in their hearts-fear of magic, fear of Uther, or fear of both. Even the castle itself looked somehow grimmer, a certain stiffness hanging in the air. His father seemed to cast a shadow over the whole citadel, or maybe it was just him being paranoid.

His _father_, Arthur remembered with a jolt. His father was _alive_. The king stopped in the middle of an empty corridor, feeling his heart going off-beat. He felt a sudden urge to see his father. Somehow, it seemed so impossible that he was breathing and ruling here and now, where in his own, real time, Uther had been dead for so many years he was truly a memory. Arthur wondered if he would look like a ghost to him.

Not like that time he had summoned the spirit of his father, and then had had to hunt him down. No, that had been different, the loss had been fresher. It hadn't felt like a _real_ ghost. But seeing his father now, after all this time… Arthur truly couldn't fathom it. Uther was a figure from the past. Uther _was _the past: to him, he would always be the face that would sometimes crack a smile for him when he had been a boy, but he would also always be the sure and hard king that would lock him in the dungeons. And more than anything else, to the people, to them all, Uther would always be the Purge and an age gone by.

Arthur shook himself out of his momentary stupor and started walking again, albeit slightly less confidence in his step. This was foolish of him. Even if he did want to see his father, there was no way he could. To him, Arthur would look like an ordinary peasant, and king Uther had never been fond of or kind to peasants. Sure, he could pretend to seek audience with the king for some matter, but somehow that didn't feel right. Besides the fact that he didn't know how long he would be kept waiting, and the cover story he would have to make up, it wouldn't be right. This was the past and he was of the future-he had no business prying around, sticking his nose everywhere and maybe accidentally altering history.

Looking up, the king realized he had been wandering into the market, and he found himself in front of the tavern. He could go in and have one drink, he mused, but then again he had left with no money.

Arthur sighed and turned on the spot, starting to make his way back. He had got his wish-he had taken a walk. Arthur didn't feel all that energetic anymore anyway. All these memories… it was all too unnerving. Suddenly, he really wanted to get back home, to his people, to his queen and to his son. Arthur saw the expression "to take a walk down the memory lane" in a whole new light.

* * *

Gaius had barely entered to his chambers and settled properly when the old Arthur-or Garrah, as they had agreed to call him-had come back from a walk. Gaius realized it would have been a waste of breath to tell him that it could have been dangerous: no one ever seemed to care about that. Common sense was not for the prince/king of Camelot and his manservant/court sorcerer.

The physician had started making dinner when yet another familiar face walked though his door: Merlin. The young one.

Gaius was usually able to tell when something was wrong with his charge. He considered it a kind of talent, a well-developed skill. The old man had to admit though, he didn't believe he had ever seen the warlock so grim in his entire life, and he had known him for quite a while. Nor had Merlin ever looked so scary, not even when he had fought against other sorcerers with his magic. And Merlin could look pretty scary when he wanted to.

Right now, the manservant's whole face seemed to be covered in a dark shadow, and Gaius could swear an invisible storm cloud was hanging over the boy's head. It didn't take a genius to guess that something not particularly good had happened.

This was the second time Merlin had come here looking grim that day: the first had been during his lunch break, when he hadn't glanced or said anything to anyone. Gaius hadn't asked him anything then, but now he felt compelled to. Clearly something was very wrong.

"What happened?" he asked his charge, and everyone in the room looked up at the manservant, even Dragoon from where he was sitting at the table, quietly pouring through the very thick spell book from the caves.

Merlin however ignored Gaius completely, choosing to glare instead first at Dragoon, then the king, then at the both of them.

"How did he find out?" Merlin asked quietly.

It took Gaius exactly two seconds to realize what was probably going on: the first second he decided "he" had to be prince Arthur, and the second one was spent agreeing that the thing he had found out about probably had something to do with magic.

Gaius watched as Dragoon looked confused for the smallest of seconds, before dawning comprehension settled on his face. However, it was Garrah who answered "We didn't tell him, if that's what you want to know"

Merlin immediately focused his glare solely on him. "Then how?" he hissed.

Garrah looked somewhere between slightly apprehensive and amused. More amused than apprehensive, Gaius noticed.

"I don't exactly know when it happened-we never saw him-but I can tell you what I remember from when I _was _him" he paused, waiting until Merlin gave a very stiff nod. Then he continued. "I remember being a bit frustrated after the argument we had. So I decided that the knights could do without me for an hour and came here, to ask what we… them… um-_Garrah and Dragoon_ planned to do to get back.

I know I reached the door just as Mer-Dragoon was explaining to Garrah something about a spell in the book. I didn't know that then, of course. I just eavesdropped a little and heard Dragoon talking magic gibberish, then saw him actually casting a spell: he chanted something and then his eyes glowed. I remember I was pretty mad, especially at you, because you hadn't told me." the king paused, smirking. "Now I know what Dragoon was doing that day: he was casting this spell he found that he thought would be very useful-said it enables one to shrink things to the size of a fist. Merlin thought it would be nice if he could carry that big red book around, not that he's going anywhere or anything"

Garrah finished, flashing one final smirk at Dragoon, accompanied by a "It didn't work by the way-the shrinking spell" that Gaius considered to be extremely unhelpful.

Merlin seemed to struggle for a full minute, incredulity, then anger, then disbelief, frustration and anger again flashing across his features. Finally he seemed to break, pointing an accusing finger at Garrah, who was looking on calmly.

"You _knew_ this was going to happen! Why didn't you stop it! We could've done without Arthur knowing this! You could've said something and-"

"No he couldn't" cut in Dragoon, quietly closing the book before him.

"What?" asked an incredulous and still angry Merlin. "What do you mean he _couldn't_?"

"We cannot dare to alter the events that have happened here before. If something like that were to change, I don't know what would become of our future" he explained, his eyes boring into Merlin's. "You know how seeing the future works, or you at least know the consequences of meddling with it. We cannot afford to change anything. Not even this"

The old physician, despite his years, felt his head spin whenever he tried to think of the whole time magic business too long. It was a complex and dangerous area of magic he had never dared touch, but he trusted this older version of Merlin knew what he was saying. Gaius was prepared to take his side, should his young charge want to argue.

The two Merlin's stared at each other for a couple of long seconds, before finally his Merlin-much to Gaius' relief-seemed to give up, his shoulders sagging as he collapsed in the nearest chair.

The physician thought this would be the best time to resume the making of the dinner.

"Have you found the spell yet?" he heard his Merlin ask, and the voice of an older Arthur answer "Not yet. He's taking his sweet time"

There was silence for a while after that, as Gaius made dinner for everyone, the only sounds that could be heard being the clink-clanks of the pots he was maneuvering.

* * *

Gwen had done her best not to notice anything these days, but it was getting increasingly hard to do so. Whenever she looked at either Arthur or Merlin, she could always see something there, a certain nervousness, even worry.

And today, today had been the last drop. Both Merlin and Arthur had worn grim and angry looks the whole afternoon, not even looking at each other, and whenever Merlin had talked to Arthur he had been _polite_. She wasn't the only one who'd noticed that: their banter was pretty famous and enjoyable. Everyone could tell they'd had some sort of fall-out.

Gwen had no idea what was going on, and it wasn't her place to pry into their business, but she was worried. Even more so now that she had seen Merlin leaving the stables looking grimmer still, and Arthur storming out himself in a different direction not even a minute later.

So Gwen had followed the prince as he went up on the battlements-where he usually went to think or when he was sad or angry. He was probably all of them right now.

Even if she knew Arthur needed to be alone with his thoughts, Gwen was also aware that the prince could be quite stubborn at times, and often let his pride get in the way of his better judgment. Gwen stepped forward.

"Arthur" she called softly to get his attention. The prince swirled around, his expression softening when he recognized her.

"Guinevere" he greeted. Gwen scanned his face for a moment, then went to sit next to him. Arthur turned to look at the sky again. Gwen realized this must be pretty serious, for Arthur to have that unreadable look on his face. There was something there, a fragility she had never seen in him. Arthur looked like something was on the verge of breaking in him, and suddenly she felt out of place there, with him.

The prince needed to figure this, whatever it was, out alone. It was something he and Merlin clearly didn't want to share, and she felt as though she should respect that. Even though she was curious and worried, and maybe even a little hurt. Gwen changed her mind: she wouldn't ask anything. But she _would _talk to Arthur.

"I know it's not my place to say, and I won't ask" she paused, but quickly put her hand on Arthur's shoulder to silence him when he opened his mouth to speak. "You don't have to tell me. I don't need to know.

But clearly something has happened between you and Merlin. All I want to say is: whatever has happened or is happening, remember that he is your _friend_ Arthur"

Feeling a sudden surge of courage, Gwen leaned in and placed a kiss on his cheek, then blushed as she stood up to leave the prince with his thoughts. She felt a hand close around her wrist.

"Guinevere"

She looked back at him, and knew she was right to let them deal on his own with whatever it was they had to deal with. Arthur smiled gratefully at her through his troubled expression. "Thank you"

She nodded as he let go and left to deliver Lady Morgana her dinner.

* * *

Arthur felt grateful for Gwen and looked out at the dark city, the stray flames flickering here and there like distant fallen stars. She was right. Merlin was his friend. Arthur didn't know what to believe, didn't want to feel the traitorous thoughts nagging at him, gnawing at his heart. He didn't want to even fathom the idea that Merlin could be practicing sorcery, but the doubt once crept into his heart, it had grabbed with both hands and refused to let go. If he was innocent, why had he not answered Arthur's last question?

Merlin was his friend, he reminded himself again. He wouldn't do anything that would hurt him or Camelot, that at least was sure of. Even if all else was suddenly not-so-certain, _that_ would remain a fact, and Arthur just had to grab onto that.

He sighed. He supposed he shouldn't have reacted like that: after all, Merlin was right. What was he to have said? "Would you like more water, sire? Did you know I will be a sorcerer in the future?" Arthur laughed, realizing why Dragoon's robes had looked vaguely familiar. He had seen them in a book when he was younger, while studying Camelot's history. In the picture, they were worn by an old man who stood next to one of the Kings of the Ancient: it was the official Court Sorcerer uniform.

Well, mostly. There were a couple of details, such as the golden dragon in a circle, that were new, but he could still recognize it. So, it seemed as if Merlin would have an even more powerful position in the future: First Advisor _and_ Court Sorcerer.

Arthur slowly got up. He would store all of these things away for later. Now he had to go and talk to Dragoon and Garrah, see if they knew how to get back. From what he'd seen when he'd eavesdropped-_ahem_-on them earlier, Dragoon had had a huge book-which Arthur was sure was a magic book-in front of him. They were probably searching for a way back. He'd better offer them his help.

* * *

**Thank you all for reading this. **

**I know this chapter didn't have too much action, but I just felt they all had to have some time to think everything through. Come to terms with it all. **

**Hope you enjoyed it. Let me know what you think, will you? :) **

**I will try posting on time, on Monday, but as I said-I'm away for the weekend and I might not have the time. So I'm extending the date a bit: I will post either on Monday or on Tuesday. No later than Tuesday though:D **

**Until next time^^ **


	12. Chapter 12

**Hello everyone. I'm back! **

**Firstly, let me apologize for the delay. I personally hate it when people do this and I'm not very proud of making you wait. I am truly sorry. **

**That being said, the only way I know how to make it up to you is by posting this as fast as I can-which will not happen if I keep rambling on. **

**Enjoy! **

* * *

Arthur leaned back in his chair, relaxed, taking a bite out of his apple and munching on it lazily. He was suddenly reminded of Gwaine, who rain or shine, war or peace, hail or warm, munched casually on his apples as though nothing could ever be wrong in the world. The king knew that he could not hope to surpass Gwaine in the act of munching carelessly on the round fruits though, but he considered himself pretty good.

Arthur was really enjoying himself. After the quiet and tense dinner the five of them-the younger him, the younger Merlin,_ his_ Merlin and Gaius-had had, his Court Sorcerer had promptly taken his big red book and slumped into the physician's bed, turning a blind eye and deaf ear to the world as he poured through it in his pursuit of a spell that could get them all back; Gaius had cleared the table together with his charge, and then the physician had returned quietly to his seat, observing all of them and sending a couple of _Eyebrows _now and then; the younger Arthur and Merlin though-those were the two who provided the king with good quality entertainment.

To begin with, the prince and servant had been stiff and silent all through the dinner, striving to avoid each other's gazes while at the same time trying to study one another: actions which were indeed a good source of amusement, as they resulted in their gazes accidentally meeting almost constantly. The fun part was their reaction whenever that happened: the servant would smother down a wince and look away with a stubborn glare on his face and his cheeks flustered, and the prince would pretend not to flinch and quickly avert an equally stubborn and slightly ashamed gaze, tinged with maybe a little anger. The two had yet to speak a word to one another.

Now that the eating part was over though, a very awkward silence had settled over the room, broken only now and then by the silent flipping of the pages of Merlin's ancient spell book. It seemed the only ones who weren't really concerned with what was happening-either between the two younger versions of them, or with the situation as a whole-were himself and his Court Sorcerer. Gaius, though doing an amazing job of hiding it, was concerned as well.

Arthur thought he should say something to make it easier for them, lighten the mood a bit-but then again. This was too much fun. He felt a smirk spread on his face and quickly covered it with the apple. It would not do for a king to smirk.

Finally, after what seemed like years, the silence was broken by the young prince who spoke up, clearing his throat first.

"So… how exactly do you plan on getting back?" The prince looked around him, first at Gaius, then at the oblivious Merlin and then at Arthur himself, who just kept on munching. As far as he was concerned, Merlin would have to answer that question.

"There's a spell in here somewhere" Merlin said, not missing a beat and not raising his gaze from the book. Then, he added "If I can find it in _this_ life, that is"

Arthur watched as the younger him blinked, looking confused for a second before an incredulous expression finally settled on his face. "Wait-just like that?_ One_ spell will solve everything?"

Arthur decided it was time for him to step in, because it didn't look like the damned warlock was going to bother to say anything more. Besides, he could have even more fun like this. (The king chased the traitorous thought that he was toying with himself away)

"Yup" he waited until the prince rounded on him. "Just like that. This useless magic-boy finds the spell and we're out of here. _Poof_"

While the prince kept blinking, Gaius decided to speak up , directing an _Eyebrow_ at Arthur's Court Sorcerer. "Hopefully this time the _incident _that brought you here will not be repeated"

At this Arthur smirked, for Merlin did look up, looking in all his oh-so-powerful Emrys, Court Sorcerer of Camelot, First Advisor of King Arthur Pendragon, Founder and Leader of the _Gylden_ Order and Druid _Ealdor_ attire like a small child being chastised by his parents, his cheeks scarlet. Merlin grunted and quickly buried his nose back in his book, making Arthur unable to contain his laughter any longer. If only his new apprentices would see him now! All the younger members of the Order or the ones who hoped to join it were practically worshipping Merlin-for them to see the great and mighty warlock of prophecies now, there were few things Arthur wouldn't give.

"You mean to say it was_ you_ who caused this to happen in the first place?" It seemed the prince had finally put two and two together, for his face was somewhere between incredulity, accusation and amusement. He was looking at the still-muttering Merlin, who promptly and in a very Merlin-like fashion ignored him and angrily flipped another page.

"Yes, Arthur he did it on purpose I'm sure" the young Merlin spoke instead, his voice dripping sarcasm as he looked at the prince for the first time that evening. The prince rounded on him, he too meeting the servant's gaze for the first time. It had been a sarcastic remark Merlin wouldn't normally make. It was perhaps even a bit mean. But it seemed like all the tension between the prince and servant allowed the former to take it as an insult, which Arthur recognized was not a good sign.

"You're taking _his_ side?"

"I'm not taking any sides! All I'm saying is it must have been an accident" growled the younger warlock right back. "And what if I _am_ taking sides? Shouldn't I take my own side, _sire_?"

Arthur really considered stepping in this time, because it looked like the two younger them would soon start fighting. The prince looked particularly unstable at the moment as the servant went on, and Arthur prayed he wouldn't do something stupid-like lunge at the young Merlin.

"Oh, wait, I forgot. Since sorcerers are evil and all that, I probably did it on purpose. Yay, way to go me! Amazing plan don't you think? Instead of killing the king _on the spot_ with my _magic_" Merlin sarcastically twirled his fingers, as if to emphasize the subject of their discussion "I very cleverly stayed with him, saving his life to earn his trust and became his Court Sorcerer. And it was all for the opportunity to send him _and myself_ into our own past!"

"That's not what I said" the prince growled, but it seemed the servant wasn't done yet.

"Oh, wasn't it? Than _what_ did you-"

"Enough" tried Arthur. He had to stop this or they would soon be at each other's throats. Both himself and Merlin had always been stubborn, and he knew for a fact that neither would back down. Gaius probably thought the same, for he too spoke only a second after him. "_Merlin_, Sire, I believe we should-"

"-say Arthur, huh? Didn't you mean that since it was _my_ fault that they are here-"

"I never said it was _your_ fault! Apparently it was _his_!"

"And I will be him one day! What do you think-that I'll do it on purpose!?"

"I don't think anything alright?"

"You didn't answer my question!"

"I don't _have to_! Do I have to remind you again-"

"_Enough!_" Arthur bellowed in the voice he used as a king. While Arthur could act half his age and status when he was with friends and family, joking around and smirking and pulling pranks even children found childish, he _was _one of the most wise and _powerful_ men in the world.

Everyone seemed to have picked up on that, for they all instantly shut up, looking down. Seconds ticked by in tensed silence, while Arthur still glared at them and both the younger men refused to look anywhere but at the floor. However, Arthur could see the slight blush in their cheeks, which could only mean that while they were stubborn enough not to admit they had been wrong, both were realizing just what they had yelled at each other.

The only one who dared break Arthur's word was, as always, Merlin.

"I believe it's late" the Court Sorcerer stated, and all gazes in the room turned on him. "You should all go to rest. Meet me here tomorrow morning-I'll have found the spell by then"

The two, prince and servant, looked ready to protest at this, but quickly thought better of it when Arthur decided to say "You heard him"

It was the prince who stood up first, bidding Gaius a muttered "Good night" and striding out of the room with forced dignity, slamming the door after him. Arthur sighed. Even though he didn't like to, he had to admit he possessed quite the temper sometimes. He knew though that the prince would be reasonable by morning. At least he hoped.

The young Merlin had amazed him though. It wasn't often that the warlock lost his calm that thoroughly and completely.

"Come on" Arthur looked up to see Merlin, who had placed one hand on his shoulder and was pointing towards the door to their small room with the book.

Arthur stood up, leaving the young servant and the physician to their thoughts.

* * *

Merlin slithered through the shadows of the castle, feeling very much like he had all those years ago, when he was still a servant and Arthur didn't know about his magic. So much had changed since then, the warlock mused as his eyes burned for a split second and a low thud could be heard from a corridor to his left. The guard's steps echoed through the castle as he followed the sound. Merlin counted to ten, then another, this time louder thud rang through the halls and the second guard trotted after the first one, calling "Andrew?" after him.

The moment the second one disappeared into the darkness of the hall, Merlin shot from his alcove down the stairs that descended to the lower levels, the red book secured tightly under his arm.

As he slipped easily through the maze of dark corridors he knew like the back of his hand, Merlin felt a pang of sadness that came whenever he thought of the past. It wasn't that he regretted how things had turned out-because he didn't. After all those years of secrets and lying and hiding, he was finally happy. But he did have regrets, there were things he wished could have ended differently, and being here in the past wasn't helping his conscience. It would be so easy it was laughable: a couple of right words here, a whisper there, a spell in the right time and place and just like that, everything would be the way he wanted to. He had the power to change his life, right all the wrongs he'd done, mould his future.

And yet. Even if he did do something to change things, there was no telling what would happen. Sure, he could kill Morgause and secure Morgana's future on their side, but there needed to be a certain balance. Who's to say he himself wouldn't side against Arthur in Morgana's place? No, it was for the best to leave things as they were, no matter how much he'd like to change some of them. The past was past and no one should have the power to change it.

Besides, Merlin thought as he neared his target, he was at peace with the past. Morgana, his father, Uther, Morgause, Freya, Mordred-everyone. He was at peace with everything and quite happy with his present.

The warlock stopped in the middle of the dark narrow corridor, cave walls rising on either side of him. This was the place. Merlin placed his hand on the wet, jagged stone wall, feeling the warm leftover crumbs of the magic he'd used a couple of days ago. Merlin closed his eyes, thinking of the right words to use, remembering how the red spell book had been hidden inside the cave wall. Finally, he opened his eyes and grabbed the book gingerly with both hands, placing it over the wall, whispering in the Old Tongue.

"_Beþeccan boc beneoþan dust. Hydan fram ansien beneoþan stan_" As soon as the words left Merlin's lips, the stone began to crumble to dust beneath the book under his eyes, and he pushed it further into the wall. The further he pushed, slowly, more dust slithered to the ground with nothing but a low hissing sound.

When he was content with how deep the book was embedded in the wall, Merlin let go, taking a step back. He watched as, with a last flare of his golden eyes, the dust came to life again, seeping backwards into the newly created hole, smothering the red cover until he couldn't see it, until every last particle of dust was back where it belonged and it all turned to solid stone again.

Merlin ran his fingers across the rocks, pleased with how well they concealed the book. With one final glance he stepped back, and disappeared down the way he had come, leaving the book to lay hidden for another fourteen years.

* * *

After Merlin left to hide the book in the caves again, Arthur amused himself by toying with every object he could find in his ex-servant's ex-room: clothes, pillows, the book under the floorboards he wasn't supposed to know about, a broom.

It had gone decently well tonight, he mused. He knew the prince would get over most of it in the morning anyway-not that it mattered, given that they would forget everything.

It felt kind so strange, going back home. Even if it had only been two days(and an evening), Arthur had grown somewhat used to being here, in the old Camelot. He wanted to go home, it wasn't about that, but he will miss it all over again. Arthur wasn't sure why-he didn't even like it in this time that much. He had been a prat, he hadn't known about Merlin, the kingdom was much more somber and fearful, Morgana was lying to them…

Arthur shook his head. There was no point in thinking about it. They couldn't stay-there wasn't room for two Arthur's and two Merlin's, and they were the ones who did not belong in this time-and he didn't even want to. Even if he could stay, he wouldn't. He had Gwen, his Round Table knights, Merlin, his son, the Order, his kingdom. And he missed them.

It was the hours before dawn, and everyone in the kingdom was sound asleep, an ominous silence hanging over Camelot. So even though Arthur knew Merlin had tried his best to be silent, the king could still hear the overly loud creak of the door to Gaius' chambers being opened.

Leaving the mug he was holding on the night table, Arthur tip-toed to the door and opened it a couple of inches, peering through the slit. It took a few second for his eyes to adjust, but thankfully tonight was a full moon, and in the silvery light that spilled from the window he could see his Court Sorcerer perfectly.

Merlin slowly walked to the cot where Gaius was sleeping(strange, for Arthur remembered the physician telling the young Merlin he could have the bed) and gently shook the old man's shoulder.

"Gaius" he heard Merlin whisper. It took a couple more tries, but finally the old man stirred. The warlock put a finger over his lips.

"Shh. It's me"

Arthur watched as Gaius stood up straight, asking Merlin if anything had happened, and wondered at how well one could hear the conversation, even though they were whispering. He made a mental note to always use a Silent spell or a Confidential when he talked to Merlin about important matters in the dead of the night-because apparently anyone who cares to listen can hear you over the silence.

The king finally understood why Merlin had woken Gaius up when the warlock fished the notebook that had gotten them here in the first place out of his robes, handing it to Gaius. _Of course_, Arthur realized, kicking himself mentally for being so stupid. He backed away from the door, slumping on the bed.

Gaius had been the one who had given Merlin the notebook as a present for his birthday! And Merlin was giving it now to the Gaius from the past. So everything that had happened: these two days that had been completely wiped from their memories until now-Gaius remembered. Arthur may or may not have chuckled to himself. (Because kings did not chuckle)

After several more minutes, the door finally opened and Merlin stepped inside, shrugging his blue robe off.

"How'd it go?" Arthur asked with a knowing smirk as the robe proceeded to fold itself and settle on the table.

Merlin stretched his muscles, yawning loudly. "Brilliant. Everything is in place. Gods, good I finally found that spell"

Arthur nodded. "Yes, good indeed" he scanned the warlock in front of him, who gave him a raised eyebrow in response. "What?"

"Nothing" Arthur lied with a smirk, then laughed at Merlin's scowl. "Fine. I was just thinking-you're going to add that red book to your library when we get back, aren't you?"

Merlin's scowl slipped, being replaced by a sheepish, goofy grin which held just a sparkle of mischief that made Arthur worry for the days to come. "Maybe"

Arthur scoffed, muttering something among the lines of "Idiotic warlocks". As they both went to sleep, the king was left wondering how Merlin could look so innocent and so mischievous at the same time. Arthur guessed some things he would never know.

* * *

**Thank you for reading and thank you for waiting and sorry for the wait! :D **

**Hope you enjoyed it. I am equally glad and sad to tell you that this story is coming to an end. My estimate is at two more chapters, but then again, you never know. **

**Thank you for sticking up with this story and I'm really grateful and lucky to have you as my readers:) **

**I will update on Monday, though if I get it done(which is actually quite the chance) I will post it tomorrow. **

**Happy Easter to those who celebrate it now! May all your non-canon ships become canon! **

**Until next time^^ **


	13. Chapter 13

**Hello again. Missed me? **

**So, I kind of have to make up for not updating on time last time, so here it is! The second-to-last-chapter! Or, well, it could be considered the last chapter, because the next one will be an epilogue. Ah, semantics. Gotta love them. **

**Anyway:) **

**Enjoy! **

* * *

It was power. Incredible, amazing power rippling just beneath the surface. Arthur could feel it, he could almost touch it, could sense it crackling, sizzling in the air. It filled his whole body with a sense of excitement, with adrenaline. His stomach had tied up into a tight knot, as it always did whenever he hid behind tress and under bushes, waiting those last seconds before he jumped on his pray.

At the same time, another feeling, a warm tingling that relaxed his muscles and covered his whole being, settled into his bones, with a sense of safety, of mystic, of magic, overwhelmed him just as completely and thoroughly.

It was amazing, the prince had to admit. And more amazing even was: most of the rippling power he could feel, Arthur knew it _wasn't_ being used. It was just there, beneath the surface, at this older, powerful Merlin's disposal. And yet for whatever he was doing, he was using a mere fraction of it. It made Arthur wonder though, just how powerful _was _Dragoon?"

The prince had been around magic a couple of times, most of them-all of them, really-with said magic being used against him. As a result, he had always felt as though he knew about magic more than most. He'd been there, done that, seen it all and defeated it. What else was there to know about magic? And yet now, now he understood that he knew nothing. Maybe even less than that. Arthur realized he didn't even know how one felt around powerful magic, because all sorcerers had fired spells _at _him. Apparently, when incantations weren't meant to hurt anybody in general and you in particular, powerful magic felt like this: a ripple in the air, a warm tingling prickling your skin, a knot in your stomach.

Of course, Arthur wasn't fool enough to believe that all small uses of magic gave away this kind of feeling. This was power. Even him, a non-magical, oblivious and ordinary human being could tell that this was magic in its purest form he was feeling. This magic was powerful enough for that.

Another thing that made Arthur wonder-a thought he would have to store away and analyze later-was the fact that being so close to someone performing spells didn't make him nervous, didn't make him edgy and didn't make him feel the repulsion his father so often felt towards the art. No, magic right now made him feel wonder.

Arthur could feel that Dragoon-who was standing in the middle of the room, the words of the Old Tongue slithering from his lips so fast he doubted he would've understood them even if he had possessed the knowledge to do so-was slowly coming to the end of his incantation. Dragoon's eyes were fixed on the red book of spells that floated just in front of him, hovering in the air with nothing to sustain it, his head bowed slightly. He held both his arms stretched in front of him, as if pushing against a wall, his fingers spread out. His raven hair was shifting ever so slowly in an invisible breeze that seemed to affect only him, as was his midnight-blue robe.

Dragoon read faster and faster, and his eyes started slowly losing their brilliant blue to dull ash; then the ash caught fire, turning to a pale yellow that increased in color until his eyes started blazing more and more golden by the second. The wind of magic picked up too, this time reaching them as well, covering the bare flesh of Arthur's forearms in goose bumps. He stole a glance at his servant and Garrah. Merlin looked impressed, his wide eyes glued onto Dragoon with amazement. But not with fear, he noticed, neither curiosity.

Garrah as well looked quite used to these kinds of displays, seemingly unaware of the wind that ruffled his hair, looking on with his arms crossed in front of him in feigned disinterest. His eyes though held a brotherly pride, a pride Arthur didn't think he could ever match.

The prince turned his gaze back to Dragoon, whose robe was billowing behind him now and whose hair was blowing about his face. He looked powerful, ancient. He looked magic.

Finally, Dragoon's eyes reached an impossibly bright molten gold and he commanded his magic with one final "_O__ntynan_". For a second nothing happened, the wind dying almost instantly as the sorcerer's eyes gave one last golden shine and died.

And then it came back with a vengeance, and Arthur had to cover his eyes as a sudden burst of bright light seemed to emerge from the tips of Dragoon's fingers and grew brighter and brighter. The prince desperately wanted to see what was happening, especially when a low hissing, crackling sound could be heard, as if thin ice was breaking, but the light wouldn't permit it.

After what seemed like hours, as fast as it had come it was gone. The wind faded and even though Arthur had his eyes closed, he knew the light had died as well. He opened his eyes.

And he gaped. Dragoon was standing there, smirking at them in front of… Arthur wasn't sure in front of what exactly.

The room looked exactly the same, safe for one small difference: it was the size of Dragoon, an opening big enough for them to go through, because that must have been what it was for. It was a peculiar view, indeed: As you moved your gaze from the left to the right of the room, your eyes registered first the wall on the left, smothered by hanging dried herbs and scrolls, then a shelf packed with everything from a small animal skull to a bottle full of bright red liquid. Further on came a chair on which several books lay forgotten one atop of the other, the flimsy stairs leading to the balcony and then… then, just behind where Dragoon was staying, there was a slight shifting of the air, a fuzzy line like the heat over a blazing fire. And inside those hazy lines suddenly Arthur didn't see the room anymore, didn't see the old dirty wall with a web of cracks hidden by shelves-he saw a different wall: freshly built, a framed painting of Camelot hanging on it right in front of his eyes, the corner of an ornately carved oak desk peeking from behind the magical opening.

It looked as though someone had patched an image of a new room over Gaius' old chambers-an image that matched these rooms perfectly.

"Very impressive Merlin. Now would you stop smirking like an idiot?" Arthur turned towards Garrah, who had drawled in a very unimpressed tone of voice that matched his casual appearance.

Dragoon scowled, but the prince could see the smile he was trying to hide. "Yes well, it's not like I've just opened a gate between two different moments in time. I mean, _any_ sorcerer could do it"

"Exactly" Garrah grinned, and Dragoon smirked back, shaking his head in feigned disappointment. "There's just no pleasing you sometimes"

The words itched Arthur, and he had a nagging feeling he'd heard them before. Judging by his servant's dawning comprehension and following smirk, he probably had, but he had no time to try and rack his brains for them as Dragoon's smirk dropped and he was all business again.

"Right. The spell won't hold for very long so we need to get a move on"

Garrah stepped forward, clapping his hands and joining Dragoon. "Alright everyone" he turned back to them, looking first at Gaius, then at Merlin, and then locking his twin blue eyes onto Arthur's. "It was nice meeting you all again" Garrah chuckled. "Well, it's not like I didn't know you but it's been wonderful seeding you again"

Arthur smiled as Dragoon rolled his eyes. The prince bowed his head, ever the polite one. "And you as well. I suppose" Arthur hoped it had been quiet enough, but if the two had heard the last muttered part, they didn't show it.

"Everything will be alright. You'll see" said Dragoon, winking at Merlin, who smiled back resignedly. Arthur got the sense that his servant wasn't entirely convinced of how well everything will turn out. He himself wasn't sure. One thing though was certain, and that he had to keep in mind: that Merlin was, as much as he hated to admit it, his friend.

"I'm going to have to erase your memories though"

The prince's gaze snapped back to Dragoon. "_What_?" he asked, at the same time that Merlin asked "Why?" Arthur could see Garrah smirking. He couldn't believe it. After everything that he-_they_-had been through these days, those sleepless nights coming to terms with things that could get him executed-were they actually telling him that it had all been for nothing? That he wouldn't even remember it?

Arthur glanced sideways at Merlin. The servant looked incredibly sad-so sad it actually made his heart ache-but at the same time he looked resigned. Had he really already accepted this? Or maybe he had known…? _No_, Arthur shook his head. Perhaps he had guessed this would happen-there must have been hints he had missed-but Arthur doubted Merlin had been sure. He looked back to Garrah and Dragoon, who pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

"I know it's difficult to understand, but you cannot be allowed to remember any of this. We-" he gestured at him and Garrah with his hand "-we didn't. When we arrived here we had no recollection whatsoever of this, even though it's in our pasts and we were supposed to remember it"

"The memories kicked in a couple of minutes later" Garrah cut in, but Dragoon didn't seem to mind-only nodded.

"It's a spell that will allow you to remember everything when the time is right. That is, when you'll become us and come back into the past as well. That's when you'll have you memories back"

Arthur didn't quite want to believe it. He wanted to remember and felt the need to protest, even though he understood the logic. Somewhat.

"It's the way it has to be" Dragoon added, smiling at them sadly. "Otherwise the future may change"

Arthur opened his mouth, then closed it. There was nothing he could say to that: all he had was a childish, stubborn (maybe even a little whiny) '_I don't want to forget_'.

"Alright" Merlin had spoken quietly, his lips pressed up into a very thin line, as if he was suppressing a flood of unreadable emotions. The prince watched the servant carefully for a full minute. Merlin wasn't usually one to give up easily. Arthur scanned the servant's eyes and the war behind them, trying to see through them.

Then he turned to Dragoon with a sigh and nodded. If Merlin agreed to this, then he'd have to agree as well. Not that it would much matter what he thought-he was sure Dragoon would just knock him out and erase his memory anyway.

Without any further ado, Dragoon stepped forwards, stopping a couple of inches in front of him and Merlin and placing two fingers on each of their foreheads. Arthur felt his stomach knot. This was it. Now he would forget everything.

Dragoon started chanting: "_Cunnan sev geong forgetan se dæg_-"

But one day he would remember it all. Arthur guessed that was what mattered.

"_-binnan be þæt hie seon se eald. Cunnan hie_-"

Wait. There was something he needed to do. This little detail that had nagged him since he had found out. And for some reason, he just had to know. Otherwise he would lose his memory and he'd never know. It was now or never. He had to ask before Dragoon finished the incantation.

"_-se forgetan dæg ahreddan be_-"

It wasn't like he'd remember it anyway, not now, so there really was no point in asking. But he just _had_ to know.

"_-dogor be hie cierran into eald. __Cunnan__-" _

"Wait" Arthur couldn't stop the words from slipping past his lips. Dragoon stopped mid-incantation, looking to him expectantly, with a small smile tugging at his lips. Arthur guessed he must have known what he wanted to ask-it made sense.

The prince suddenly realized every eye in the room was on him. He forced himself not to turn his head and watch his servant as he gulped and locked his eyes onto Dragoon's blue depths.

"I have one last question"

This time, dragoon did smile, and nodded. _Yup_, thought Arthur. He definitely knew what he was about to say. Arthur felt Merlin stiffen beside him.

"When did you start practicing magic?" he asked, and even though his voice had come out smaller than he had planned, the prince didn't doubt everyone in the room had heard him. Arthur refused to look at his servant, even when he heard Merlin's sharp intake of breath.

A strange silence settled over the next seconds, as though everyone collectively held their breath, waiting for Dragoon's answer. Maybe they did-he certainly couldn't breathe right now. The only thing breaking the silence was a very low hissing, which most probably came from the big opening in time still waiting for Dragoon and Garrah to step through it.

Arthur noticed a stray lock of raven hair falling into Dragoon's left eye. A warm, unreadable smile stretched onto the older sorcerer's face.

"I was born with it" Dragoon finally said, and Arthur barely registered his next words-the end of the spell-his brain too busy processing the information and all its implications, his senses otherwise occupied with the knot in his stomach which first clenched more tightly, then suddenly untied itself, releasing all the accumulated pressure.

"-_æghwa behwierfan beon be Arthur Pendragon ac Merlin__." _

Arthur snapped out of it when a wave of dizziness hit him like a brick wall, and his increasingly sleepy eyes rose in time to see Dragoon's golden ones turn back to their original blue.

Images flashed in front of his eyes, fading into one another only to be swallowed by the white dizziness: the old Merlin and Arthur; Gaius; Merlin; Dragoon; Garrah; Gwen; Dragoon performing magic; Merlin yelling at him in the stables, the light burrowing his hair a strange golden glow; Gwen placing a sift kiss on his cheek; the city in the darkness; a red book; an opening in time. Bits and pieces of memory fell twirling into one another faster and faster, pulled into an unreachable haze.

Arthur distantly felt his knees buckle and two hands reaching under his arms, slowly lowering him to the ground. The last thing his eyes fell on were Merlin's blue orbs, equally glassy and half-open, a desperate question-a plea-written all over their blue.

Though his fogged mind didn't understand completely-he now had but a flimsy grasp of why Merlin could look like that, and even that grasp was slipping away from him. He couldn't remember what the servant was so desperately asking him, what he was pleading with him for, but he doubted even Merlin remembered. However, even though he couldn't recall what all this was about and what was happening, he felt a strange feeling of acceptance, of agreement towards Merlin.

So Arthur did just that-he tried to smile encouragingly at Merlin, even though he didn't know why he was doing so. Merlin seemed to be engulfed into a deep relief, although the prince could see that the servant too had no idea why he felt this way.

The last thing Arthur saw before his mind went completely blank and everything was swallowed by darkness was Merlin closing his eyes, Gaius hovering above him along with a figure that was too blurred for him to recognize.

Then everything went black.

* * *

Gaius watched as Garrah caught the prince before he could hit the ground, and he rushed to catch Merlin as well. The old physician carefully lowered Merlin to the ground, feeling Dragoon come up behind him.

Garrah positioned Arthur on Gaius' cot, then walked to him and picked up Merlin as well.

"I'll put him in his room" he announced as he trotted up the couple of steps to his charge's room, kicking the door open and disappearing inside.

Gaius turned to watch the "gate" between his time and theirs. He studied the corner of the desk, noting the ornate cravings and expensive wood, then his gaze moved to the equally extravagant frame of the painting. Finally, his eyes slid along the hazy edges of the opening. It was a very powerful spell. The old physician could feel the power it emitted even from where he stood, and he had no doubt they could all hear the hissing and cracking of the magic. The edge of the gate sizzled, jerking closed an inch.

"I believe you should go. It looks as though it won't last much longer" he told Dragoon, just as Garrah rejoined them, answering before Dragoon could.

"Right you are, as always" he placed a hand down on Gaius' shoulder. "It was great seeing you again. Even though I'll see you in a moment"

Gaius bowed his head. "Sire"

Garrah nodded at him and backed away a couple of steps, his back almost touching the magical gate.

"Gaius" Dragoon began and walked to him, then stopped and seemed to consider something for a fraction of a second. Then the warlock hugged him, and Gaius felt himself smile and hugged him back.

"I am very proud of you, Merlin" he whispered, realizing it was the first time he had called the old Merlin that.

Dragoon drew back, his hands still on Gaius' shoulders. In that moment, it really hit Gaius that this-this older man dressed in extravagant silk robes and with power and knowledge of magic that far surpassed his own-this was Merlin. The same goofy, idiotic man who took everything to heart and tried saving everyone all the time. The older Merlin bared his teeth in that goofy smile, and suddenly he seemed no older than the man lying unconscious in his room.

"Thanks Gaius"

The physician smiled, than removed Merlin's hands from his shoulder when the gate crackled closed another couple of inches. "Now go, my boy"

The warlock nodded, but instead of going he leaned in closer, his smile slipping into a serious expression.

"I need you to do something for me Gaius"

Gaius raised his _Eyebrow_, but nodded anyway. Different from the younger warlock, he had also learned this one was much wiser when he needed to. (Not that his Merlin couldn't be wise when push came to shove. It was just that Dragoon was older, more intelligent and more experienced)

"There will be a time, a couple of years from now, when a shadow will come over Arthur's reign" Dragoon paused, seeming to think of how best to phrase this, and Gaius waited patiently, doing his best to ignore the increasing crackles and hisses of the gate as it closed.

"I will be given a choice: a choice between what I believe to be right in my heart, and what all the signs tell me that I must choose" his eyes locked onto Gaius, dead serious. "You must convince me to do what is right, otherwise the future will never happen"

Gaius felt his stomach churn, and a white fear gripped his heart. "I'm afraid you must give me more than that, Merlin"

Merlin stole a glance back at the gate, then hurriedly gripped Gaius shoulders. "I'll tell you only this: you must make me trust Mordred"

Gaius felt his stomach do a flip-flop and he drew a sharp breath in. He had not expected that. "I need to disregard the prophecies and always do what I feel right. I need to consider him a friend and I need to treat him as a friend. If his life is in danger, I need to save him, no matter what the prophecies tell. Do you understand Gaius?" There was an urgency in his voice that made the words sink deep, searing into his brain.

"I promise you I will not allow you to be blinded by the prophecies" Gaius promised, not breaking the eye contact. Merlin searched his eyes for another second, then nodded and stepped back without another word, stepping through the gate together with king Arthur.

The air shifted and sizzled when they passed past the barrier and into another time, rippling like the surface of a lake, and suddenly both of the future Merlin and Arthur were on the other side, in front of the Camelot painting.

They both turned as the opening started swallowing itself, and Gaius only caught a glimpse of Merlin waving before the air gave one last loud crackle and they were gone, replaced by one of his ordinary shelves.

Gaius stared at the place where they had been for another second, before he staggered back and fortunately collapsed into a chair.

Was this really over? Were they really gone? It seemed impossible. Even if they had only been here-what, three days?-it seemed like they had been here forever. Like Dragoon and Garrah had always been a part of their lives.

Gaius rubbed his forehead. And then there was Dragoon's last warning: trust Mordred. '_If his life is in danger, I need to save him, no matter what the prophecies tell._' Gaius hadn't even thought they would ever see Mordred again-that he would be this important to the future… Will Mordred's life be in danger? Merlin wouldn't have made that remark if it wouldn't, would he?

'_Do you understand Gaius?_' And he had been so desperate, so serious. He really needed to be careful with this. Gaius didn't want to ruin the beautiful future Arthur and Merlin seemed to share. But he knew Merlin didn't trust Mordred, not even now. How will he convince the stubborn warlock to forget all about the prophecy of Mordred killing Arthur?

"Gaius?" a voice groggily drifted to the physician from Merlin's room, and Gaius looked up to see a sleepy Merlin swaying on his feet as he struggled to climb down the stairs.

Gaius stood up to help the boy and guided him into a chair, then went to pour him a mug of cold water, which Merlin drank greedily. The young servant rubbed his forehead, groaning.

"Gods, my head! What happened?"

Gaius walked to his shelf, perusing the numerous bottles and herbs until he found the headache remedy he was looking for. He grabbed two bottles and made his way back to the table, offering Merlin one of them.

"Here, drink this. It will help with the pain"

Merlin numbly took the bottle, uncapped it and drank it in one go, making a face.

"Ugh" he complained. "So what happened here Gaius? I don't-I don't remember anything"

Oh. Excuse. Gaius needed an excuse. He opened his mouth to speak, hoping something at least half believable would come out, but just then another groan stopped him. Arthur was stirring in his bed.

The prince struggled to get up, gripping his head. It took another full minute for Arthur to notice his surroundings.

"Merlin? Wha-what the hell happened? Gaius?"

Gaius sighed, handing him the small bottle and filling another mug of water for the prince. "For the pain" he explained.

After much groaning and several accusatory remarks at Merlin(and angry denials from the warlock), the prince and servant finally settled at the table and gave the physician their full attention. Gaius was going to go for something involving a hunting trip, but changed his mind at the last moment.

"Sire, Merlin. You are both suffering from severe hangovers" he stated.

Both of them blinked at him, their expressions blank, and then Arthur proceeded to slap Merlin across the back of his head. "You _idiot_! What did you do?"

Merlin recovered, looking thoroughly insulted. "_Me_? What do you mean what did _I_ do? You probably dragged me to the tavern with you knights and-"

"Yes, _Mer_lin, because _I _am the one who spends half his time in the tavern!"

"I do _not_ spend half my time in the tavern!"

"Oh really now? Need I remind you of-"

Gaius walked away from the table, tuning out their bickering with a smile. Some things never changed. As he set up a light lunch for the two friends with magic-induced headaches, Gaius realized there was no need to worry about the future now. He would worry about Mordred when the time came. There was no point in moping around, trying to see in between the lines of what Dragoon had said, especially when there were so many things that he did not know, so many things that had yet to come to pass. And he-_they_-would get through them all, one step at a time.

Gaius felt the weight of the notebook in his robes. At least he didn't have to worry about Merlin's 38th birthday present.

* * *

Arthur looked at the darkening sky, watching as the world slowly faded to black from his high perch on top of the battlements. Something felt weird, like something was missing, only he didn't know what. And every time he looked at Merlin, a shot of _something_ passed through him, but it was always gone too fast for him to figure out exactly what it was.

The prince sighed. He still felt a dull ache around his temples, but thankfully the pain had mostly gone. That was another peculiar thing: he and Merlin getting drunk. Arthur couldn't quite believe it.

Sure, he had often gone with his knights to the tavern and dragged the servant along, but none of his knights had come with them this time. And Arthur didn't go to get drunk with just Merlin. Besides, no one seemed to have seen them there-not that he doubted Gaius' word. He trusted the man: Gaius was like a father to him.

Arthur pressed his lips together. Then there was what Gwen had asked him earlier today, or rather told him: '_I see you and Merlin have solved whatever was happening. I'm glad. You both are very good friends to me and to each other, and I would hate to see you fight_'

Arthur had smiled and nodded at her, and refrained from gasping when she had placed a kiss on his cheek. Guinevere wasn't usually that bold, and neither did she speak her mind so freely to him. And what was that about a fight? He didn't remember fighting with Merlin, at least not more than they usually did. Gwen had sounded like something serious had happened between them. Arthur was again engulfed in that ominous feeling: that he was missing something big, something important.

"Thought I'd find you here" Arthur whirled around, noticing Merlin had somehow sneaked up on him. "Sire" the boy added as an afterthought, with a goofy smirk. (How did one even manage a goofy smirk anyway?)

The prince turned back around as Merlin sat down next to him.

"Beginner's luck" he snorted halfheartedly.

"Maybe"

They both watched in companionable silence as the bright red that stained the sky slowly spread, the color dulling and turning to ink.

"Doesn't it feel a bit… strange to you?" Arthur asked quietly, knowing Merlin wouldn't need an explanation. After a couple of beats, the servant answered.

"Yeah. I can't figure out _what_ exactly, though"

Arthur nodded. "Me neither"

The prince and the servant watched the city until all the light bled into the earth, swallowed by the inky darkness, until the first stars speckled into life over the flickers of the freshly lit torches in the city below.

* * *

**What did you think? **

**Gods, this has got to be the longest chapter I've ever written. At least in this story. 5,000 words! I know technically it's not that long, but given that my average chapter has about 3,000... **

**Anyway. Hope you guys enjoyed it at least half as much as I enjoyed writing it-because I really enjoyed writing it:d I've been working on the second half for four hours, and I don't even feel tired. Where did all this time go, I have no idea. **

**So, as I said at the beginning, there will be an epilogue:D **

**Thank you all again for sticking up with my silly little story:) **

**I'd tell you that I'll update in three days as usual, but there really is no telling. I mean, I'm in a writing fever of sorts, so I might update tomorrow. Anyway, let's put a date here, just so you know: the epilogue will be posted no later than Wednesday, because you never know what could happen, right? **

**Till next time^^ **


	14. Epilogue

**So. Here it is. The last of this story: the Epilogue. **

**Du-du-du-duuum:) Took me longer than I'd though to write it, but hey-still on time! **

**Enjoy! **

* * *

_Fourteen years and a half later..._

The slants of afternoon sunlight that managed to break through the blanket of puffy clouds fell in burning beams down on the ground, painting patches of the green forest canopy a bright gold. They also fell on the rooftops of the houses in the citadel, on the wet ground and on the mud and puddles of the previous three day's rain. The beams stopped however at the towers and turrets of Camelot's castle, breaking and winking at the bustling market as they reflected on the shining windows, or slipping like water on the high stone walls, painting them yellow.

The woods were silent, but as you approached the famous Camelot, as you passed the guards and entered its grounds, a noise that got louder and louder the closer you got to the castle filled the air: shouting, talking, laughter and yelps as men, women and children hurried this way and that, buying and selling and cleaning. Servants rushed to do the last preparations for the feast that was to take place that evening, cook helps bought last minute spices and fruits they had just discovered they were lacking, ladies frantically searched the displayed wools and silks in the market for that perfect dress they still did not have or desperately hoped to spot the perfect piece of jewelry, knights trotted this way and that, druids flooded inside the city walls dressed in their best bright green and blue robes, magicians did last minute checks of their colorful and inventive spells and so on and so forth: the whole Camelot gone mad, some would say. It really was like a madness had suddenly spread throughout the packed citadel, but then again: this was how the city was whenever it was the eve of a big celebration. And today was the eve of a _very _big celebration. For today was the 38th anniversary of birth of Camelot's Court Sorcerer.

Said Court Sorcerer, however, was at the very moment hiding in an alcove, praying to all the Gods there were that the two servants wouldn't notice him there. Thinking it was better to be safe than sorry, his eyes glowed in the shadow for a second as he muttered a silent spell that would make him almost invisible. It was more of a trick than a real spell, really. Something he had picked up a couple of years ago: it deflected one's attention from that which the spell was cast upon, so that when one looked one wouldn't immediately notice-in this case-Merlin crouching there against the wall. It worked somewhat like an illusion spell, altering people's perception of him rather than altering his own person-which would've been _a lot_ harder.

Merlin released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, checking that the corridor was empty before quickly running in the direction of the Physician's Chambers. It was one of the downsides of being a famous and important person: he couldn't walk the halls of the castle without being noticed anymore. But Merlin had gotten used to it a long time ago. After all, it was almost nine years since he'd officially become Arthur's Court Sorcerer. But on days like these: on anniversaries and things like that, he always got these moments of reminiscence of times past. Which-he assumed at least-was pretty normal. People don't usually get to think too much on the past, caught in the bustle and hustle of everyday life, but moments like these, or stumbling into old things, or maybe even meeting an old friend: these are the small moments in which we remember what has been.

Merlin had to duck another two times and hide another three before he reached Gaius' chambers-which were situated in the East Tower. Arthur had given Gaius the whole Tower to fill with books and herbs and sick rooms, given that the ex-chambers he used to have-which had been destroyed in an attack two years before-had been way too small. Especially for Camelot, a city that seemed to naturally attract disasters. Or maybe that was just Arthur. Either way, the Court Physician now had a tower to himself and his apprentices. Merlin reckoned it was a good thing, remembering how in the old days, whenever an attack took place, Gaius had to practically move all the injured in the Great Hall, where there was more space.

The Court Sorcerer watched the entrance and sighed, starting to mutter under his beard an illusion spell. He hoped whatever sorcerers were in there were way too busy with the preparations for the damned feast Arthur insisted on giving in his name, otherwise they'd sense the magic.

Merlin stepped out of the shadows and smiled innocently at the guards there, who looked at him with a suspicious eye. To them, he now looked like one of the castle servants. One of the guards-the one on the left-suddenly gasped, and proceeded to burst into a "coughing" fit. Merlin scowled at him: he was one of the Order. He always put one of them at Gaius' door, disguised as normal guards. Even though he had put powerful wards around the whole Tower, Merlin had wanted to be sure his old mentor was safe, and a trained member of the Order of the _Gylden_ was always better than a ward. Gaius wasn't aware of any of this, or if he knew he'd never given Merlin any clues.

The warlock threw the guard a _very_ icy look, glaring as hard as he could. He couldn't remember who was on duty today: Maerc? Gilffry?

The guard tried to compose himself, staring at his non-magical companion.

"It's alright. I know him. Let him through"

The other man still looked unsure, but let Merlin pass. Merlin made sure to throw his Order-man a dirty look over his shoulder when he heard another snicker. So what if you saw your boss trying to sneak into his ex-mentor's Tower on his birthday under a powerful illusion? Surely that wasn't any reason to laugh?

Merlin made his way through the crowded rooms, dodging rushing people as he climbed the stairs. Finally he reached Gaius' library-where the old man had agreed to meet him-panting. Merlin's eyes glowed as he knocked, muttering the illusion away.

"Enter" came Gaius' voice, muffled by the wood, and Merlin pressed on the door.

Gaius was sitting at the large, beautifully carved desk at the back of the huge library, writing carefully something on a piece of parchment with an ornate white feather. Shelves upon shelves full of books and scrolls spiraled up around him, elegant stairs rising next to them. The last rays of sun seeped in dull reds and greens through the mosaic on the ceiling.

Merlin walked to Gaius, a mad grin sticking to his face and refusing to fall off. He stopped in front of the desk, waiting patiently for the old man to stop writing. The library, unlike the rest of the Tower-and the rest of Camelot-was silent, so silent that Merlin could hear the nib of Gaius' white feather scratching against the paper. The whole room, with its high circular walls and dusty smell of a thousand books, was like a safe bubble of silence. Merlin breathed in happily, excitement bubbling in his stomach as he realized Gaius had put the feather down and was now dripping hot wax on the paper, preparing to put his seal on it. The warlock couldn't get his hands to stop moving, so he twined his fingers and willed them to wait patiently these last seconds.

It seemed as if Gaius put the papers away in slow motion, and when he finally looked up to Merlin, the warlock couldn't contain himself any longer: he jumped into Gaius' arms, hugging him fiercely.

Merlin felt Gaius gasp and heard his muffled chuckle, but it only made him hug the man tighter. Gods, had eighteen years really gone by so fast? It seemed like only yesterday that he was first walking into Gaius' chambers, fearful and excited about a new life, a new beginning.

"Merlin, my boy. I can't breathe"

Merlin forced himself to step back, grinning madly. "Sorry"

Gaius smoothed down his golden hemmed robe, his _Eyebrow_ clearly saying "No you're not". The old man cleared his throat then, finally breaking into a large smile.

"Happy birthday, my boy"

"Thanks, Gaius" he answered, too quickly. He felt more excited than he had in weeks. Merlin hadn't gotten to see too much of Gaius this past week, what with the work he had to put in the preparation for his own birthday party: he had had to work with the _Gylden_ and strengthen the wards around the castle and downtown, he had had to visit the main druid clans in the area and the more important ones in the neighboring kingdoms, he had had to go all the way to Kilgharrah-because the dragon was too old to move his scaly ass-not to mention the visits they'd had from all the Lords that inhabited the planet and their Court Sorcerers. These anniversaries were more pain than they were fun, really.

"Are you excited about tonight?" Gaius asked with a wink in his old eyes, and Merlin collapsed onto a chair that magically floated to him just in the nick of time. He groaned.

"Don't even talk about that"

Gaius only smiled knowingly. "It is beyond me why you complain so much. You know you have always been the one who most enjoys these celebrations"

Merlin opened his mouth to protest, but Gaius raised a wrinkled finger in his face, cutting him off.

"Ah, shush now. Help me and bring that wooden box over there will you?"

Merlin grunted again, but stood up and went to the shelf Gaius was pointing at. Gaius was very old now, almost ninety-four, and Merlin knew he had trouble moving around too much. Nowadays, his apprentices and team of physicians did most of the healing. His old mentor usually sat here, in the library, dealing with the more political side of the things and teaching.

Merlin scanned the shelf and spotted a large wooden box with a beautifully carved dragon stretching its wings on the lid in between two large, red and respectively green, books.

"This one?" he asked, moving so that Gaius could see the box-or chest, really.

"Yes, that one. Bring it here"

Merlin grabbed it with both hands and drew in a breath, but found that the chest was much lighter than he'd thought. He easily carried it to the desk and carefully placed it in front of Gaius, resuming his seat. His eyes followed the old physician as he slowly traced the dragon with fingers that trembled only slightly-a barely noticeable movement. Merlin muffled a concern he'd had for some time now-that Gaius seemed more and more tired and fragile, that his hands trembled almost imperceptibly all the time, that his wrinkles were too deep. This was not the time for worries.

Finally, Gaius gingerly grabbed the lid and opened the box ever so slowly, as though it might break if he opened it too fast. Merlin could spot two old, yellowed pieces of parchment and a silver chain peeking from underneath, before his eyes were drawn to the small rectangular bundle wrapped in blue silk and tied with a purple ribbon that was picked up by Gaius' fingers. An unreadable expression crossed the old man's face as he looked at the bundle in his hands, and then it was gone and he offered it to Merlin with a smile.

"Happy birthday, my boy" he said softly.

Merlin gingerly took the proffered bundle, distantly aware of Gaius watching him as he carefully untied the ribbon and let the silk fall to the floor with a barely audible hiss.

Merlin felt his breath hitch in his throat for some unknown reason. In his hands lay a very old, weathered notebook that had once probably been a bright blue, but was now a slushy, faded color. The edges of the cover were fringed, eaten by the ages, and the ghost of a title scratched illegible lines on it. Yet Merlin knew time would affect this notebook no more, as he could feel the distant pulse of magic beneath his fingers like a fragile heartbeat. Someone had put a spell on this notebook to preserve it.

Merlin opened the notebook with immense care, a feeling of powerful déjà-vu washing over him. But the feeling was gone a second later as he perused the pages, noting the yellowed corners and numerous spells scribbled on them. He realized this must be a journal of some kind: the scribble was mostly the same, though now and then different writings pitched in and over the original elegant script, sketches and drawings and runes all tossed together on worn pages.

Merlin looked up to Gaius. "Thank you"

Gaius smiled. "You're welcome, my boy"

Merlin closed the notebook, shaking his head, excitement already bubbling up under his skin again: he needed to get moving, to reach his chambers and study this journal, read every word and every rune.

"No, _thank you_. Really. This is great" He hugged the old man again, and then sprinted towards the exit, waving the journal happily at Gaius.

"See you at the feast, Gaius"

* * *

This was ridiculous, thought the king of Camelot as he shifted uncomfortably in front of Merlin's door, biting his lip, sword in hand. Ever since his birthday, when Gaius had given the warlock that damned notebook, the Court Sorcerer had locked himself in his experimenting chamber of his Tower(a room feared by the most brave of all Camelot, a room even Arthur was reluctant to enter) and had ignored his duties and the numerous unfortunate servants the king had sent after him, refusing to get out.

Arthur sighed, shouting for the second time at the door. "Are you sure it's safe?"

Arthur had prodded the door with Excalibur and checked for smoke and other foul smells, but the room seemed safe enough-at least from the other side of the door. He had then asked Merlin if it was safe, but you could never trust the warlock too much on that, so it was better that he made sure. Last time he entered without properly checking, Arthur had been hit by a wayward spell that had turned his hair blue for a whole week. The week Queen Eleanor was _visiting_.

"Yes, I'm sure. Now get in or leave, you coward" came Merlin's muffled voice.

_Coward_? Nobody made the king of Camelot a coward and got away with it. Arthur straightened up, sheathing his sword back and putting a hand on the knob.

He remembered Merlin coming to him three days ago before the feast for his birthday: The whole Council Room had watched as the Court Sorcerer came running like a madman towards the king, an idiotic grin of never-before-seen proportions plastered across his face, silk robe billowing behind him as he waved a book of some kind at Arthur, shouting '_Hey Arthur look what Gaius gave me for my birthday!_'. Luckily for Merlin and Arthur's pride, it had been only a Round Table meeting, and everyone there knew Merlin well enough not to be too surprised: Gwaine had burst into hollering laughter and had yet to shut up about the event, Tiron had chuckled behind Arthur, and the king remembered Lehaandra burying her face ashamedly in her hand. That had been a laugh later with Tiron, Gwaine and Percival-a laugh which had sadly ended in a lot of pain. (_Note to self: do not make fun of Lehaandra ever again_)

Arthur pushed the door open. A powerful smell of mixed herbs hit him like a brick wall, but the king was so used to it that he didn't even flinch this time, closing the door behind him and crossing his arms in front of his chest with a scowl on his face.

Merlin was circling one of his unfortunate work tables like the madman that he was, crisscrossing the room now and then as he searched for objects that he then returned to the table.

The damned notebook was flipped open, hovering a couple of inches above the table that was packed with things Arthur did not want to know about, a small steaming cauldron placed exactly underneath it. When he searched Merlin with his gaze again, Arthur noticed that the warlock had already moved and climbed on a ladder that was currently flying towards one of the top shelves.

The room was huge, with a very high ceiling covered in cracks (the result of Merlin perfecting a spell he had made up, that allowed him to make any wall see-through whenever he wanted) and was very similar to the library in the Court Physician's Tower: there were three levels, shelves and stairs spiraling along the length of the wall. Three large, round tables rested on the floor, and a small cot was tucked somewhere between two shelves for when Merlin slept through one of his longer experiments. However, different from Gaius' organized and clean library, Merlin's experiment room was a total and utter mess: objects floated freely, chairs moved, books flipped madly opened and closed, herbs and magical items sat on top of countless books, the torches that lined the stone walls burned all the colors of the rainbow, pots and cauldrons of all sizes steamed and colors exploded at the corner of Arthurs vision. And this was on a good day. Some objects didn't stop their unnatural movement even when Merlin slept-that's how powerful the spells were.

"_Merlin_!" Arthur bellowed, just as the warlock floated down and added two green leaves to the steaming cauldron. Then, promptly ignoring Arthur, he muttered something rapidly in the Old Tongue and suddenly the cauldron stopped steaming with a loud pop. And then it started moving, pouring a bright red liquid into two glass bottles that materialized out of thin air.

Merlin then took the bottles and walked to Arthur, offering him one, the notebook floating after him.

"Here, drink this" Merlin said, already gulping down his own bottle and making a face. Then he grabbed the notebook from the air and looked to Arthur expectantly.

"Merlin" Arthur said, looking him in the eye. He'd try to reason with him first. "What on-"

"Just drink it!" the warlock suddenly said, grinning. Arthur found the journal pushed into his face, blocking all but Merlin's finger pointing at an incantation from view. The incantation seemed to be scribbled across the ugly sketch of some kind of animal, half of the page blurred as if someone had spilled water on it.

"There's this teleportation spell that allows you to travel very long distances. And unlike the other spells I know it can get you safely and in one piece wherever you want, and you can even send objects instead of people. But it works on people too. And-"

"_Mer_lin" Arthur pushed the journal away from his face. He needed to get some sense into this lunatic's thick skull. "You don't even know if this spell it's going to work. Look at the state of it! Besides, you know how runes are hard to read, and these ones are barely visible"

"Please" Merlin looked up at him with that innocent look. "Please, Arthur" he repeated, his blue eyes big. "The potion is protection-nothing will happen to us. No missing parts of body will happen if you drink this, and I really want to try it because we'd be able to transport to very far away"

"_Merlin_" Arthur tried again, but the warlock wasn't even stopping for breath, never mind him.

"And it's a variation of the teleporting spells I already know. Nothing big. Imagine of you could get to whatever castle you want in a second. The visits would be so easy to make!"

"_Merlin_" Arthur scowled, using his best authoritative voice. "Merlin-_no_"

The warlock looked at him, blinked, then his face dropped the act, taking on a stubborn look.

"Fine. I'll do it without you then"

Arthur felt a headache coming. There was no way Merlin would back up this. When he got it in his head to do something, Arthur knew there was no stopping the warlock. And he really, _really_ didn't want Merlin to do it. But more than that, he _really_ didn't want the stupid warlock to do it all by himself. Especially if it involved long distance travelling. Or teleportation, whatever. It wasn't that he didn't think Merlin could take care of himself. It was just that-well. The man was an idiot.

Arthur gulped down the contents of the bottle, praying he wouldn't regret this. Merlin's face broke into a huge grin. "Knew you'd give in"

"Shut up and cast the spell before I change my mind"

Who was he kidding? He was definitely going to regret this.

Scrolls and papers flew around the room, a bottle of something spilling as a howling wind suddenly picked up, followed by a blinding white light.

Then the wind died down and the light faded, leaving the high walls of the ceiling empty of the King and Court Sorcerer of Camelot, several cauldrons still steaming in the silence.

* * *

**I want to thank you all for reading this story and being there for me every step of the way. Thank you for making time to read this, for reviewing and favoriting and following. Thank you for your support and thank you for your criticism, without which this story would probably be much, much worse. You helped me improve and you gave me the strength to write when I felt down. **

**I cannot tell you how amazing it is to know that people-strangers, persons you have never met and probably never will-found the patience to read and actually enjoyed the words that you wrote, the stories that you told, the threads that you wove. Some understand and some don't-and to those who are afraid of being criticized, I'd like to tell that this feeling is worth it. Write those stories without fearing anything. **

**Thank you:) Thank you all. **

**I might write a sequel in the future world of king Arthur and Court Sorcerer(Warlock!) Merlin, but I'm not sure yet. I think I will though-it's too interesting:) **

**Well, for now it is goodbye. **

**Hope I'll see you all soon^^ **


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